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'  MY   RUN    HOME,'    '  THE   SQUATTER'S   DREAM,"  '  ROBBERY   UNDER   ARMS,'    ETC. 




MACMILLAN    AND    CO,  Ltd. 


All  rights  reserved 




$$%  2D*ate0t  apotljer 






•   v-s-  v*-'-  ^--  «.>■ 

MB  SEie 


These  reminiscences  of  the  early  days  of  Melbourne 
— a  city  which,  as  a  family,  we  helped  to  found — 
awakened,  when  first  published  in  the  columns  of  the 
Australasian,  an  amount  of  general  interest  most 
gratifying  to  the  writer. 

It  is  hoped  that,  in  their  present  more  convenient 
form,  they  may  secure  and  retain  the  approbation  of 
the  public. 

I  should  feel  bound  to  apologise  for  the  mention 
of  names  in  full  were  I  not  conscious  that  I  have 
written  no  line  calculated  to  offend  ;  nor  have  I,  for 
one  moment,  failed  in  sincere  goodwill  towards  every 
comrade  of  that  joyous  time. 



A.D.      1840  ......  I 


The  Far  West         .  .  .  .  .10 

The  Death  of  Violet         .  .  .  23 


DUNMORE  .  .  .  .  .  -33 


Squattlesea  Mere  .  .  .  .  41 


The  Eumeralla  War  .  .  .  •       51 



The  Children  of  the  Rocks 


Kll  FERA  . 

Old  Port  Fairy 


GRA  5M1  RE 


The  Native  Police  .  •  .  ■       74 



Portland  Bay  .  •  •  •  .106 



Sup]  !'.VI  rENINC    COUN1  RV  .  .  •       'J- 

CHETT  01    •■  1  hi    Gums"  .  .  .142 

Work  and  Play       .  .  .  •  •     151 




The  Romance  of  a  Freehold        .  .  .     160 

Le  Chevalier  Bayard         .  .  .  .170 


The  Christening  of  Heidelberg  .  .  .179 

The  Woodlands  Steeplechase      .  .  .187 

Yering  ......     200 


Tales  of  a  "Traveller"  .  .  .  .212 

Yambuk  ......     222 


Ballaarat  in   185 1 .  .  .  .  -237 

The  Death  of  Welford     ....     242 
Sunset  in  the  South  ....     244 

XI 1 



The  Bushman's  Lullaby 




"  Priez  pour  Elle' 






A.D.    184O 

Standing  in  the  gathering  winterly  twilight,  at  the 
intersection  of  Elizabeth  and  Flinders  Streets,  one 
instinctively  remarks  the  long  crowded  suburban 
trains,  laden  with  homeward-bound  passengers, 
quitting  the  city  and  care  for  the  night's  charmed 
interval.  All  the  streets  of  busy  Melbourne  are  yet 
thronged,  in  spite  of  the  apparently  rapid  diminution 
which  is  proceeding.  The  indefinable  hum,  notice- 
able in  large  urban  populations  at  the  close  of  the 
day,  as  the  lamps  are  lit,  which  mark  for  most  men 
the  boundary  between  work  and  recreation,  is 
increasingly  audible.  The  grand  outlines  of  the 
larger  public  buildings  become  suggestively  indis- 
tinct. If  your  ear  be  good,  you  may  hear  the 
steam-whistle  and  the  roar  of  the  country  trains  at 
Spencer  Street  Station.  The  senses  of  the  musing 
spectator  are  filled  to  saturation  with  the  sights 
and  sounds  proper  to  the  largest,  the  most  highly 
civilised,  the  most  prosperous  city  in  the  world,  for 
the  years  of  its  existence.  Stranger  than  fiction 
&  B 


docs  it  not  seem,  that  in  the  month  of  April,  in  the 
year  of  grace  1840,  we  should  have  migrated  en 
famille  from  Sydney  to  assist  in  the  colonisation  of 
Port  Phillip,  in  the  founding  of  this  city  of  Melbourne  ? 
The  moderate-sized  schooner  which  carried  us  safely 
hither  in  a  few  hours  under  a  week  had  been 
chartered  by  Paterfamilias,  so  that  we  were  unre- 
stricted as  to  many  matters  not  usually  left  to  the 
discretion  of  passengers.  It  was  a  floating  home. 
Colonists  of  ten  years'  standing,  we  had  many  things 
to  bear  with  us,  which  under  other  circumstances  of 
transit  must  have  been  left  behind.  There  were 
carriage  horses  and  cows,  the  boys'  ponies,  the 
children's  canaries,  poultry,  and  pigeons,  dogs  and 
cats,  babies  and  nurses,  furniture,  flower-pots,  work- 
men, house  servants — all  the  component  portions  of 
a  large  household  shifted  bodily  from  a  suburban 
home,  and  ready  to  be  transferred  to  the  first 
suitable  dwelling  in  the  new  settlement.      One  can 

ily  imagine  to  what  a  state  of  misery  and  con- 
fusion such  a  freight  would  have  been  reduced  had 
bad  weather  come  on.  But  the  winds  and  the 
waves  were  kind,  and  on  Saturday  afternoon  the 
harbour-master  of  Williamstown  partook  of  some 
slight  alcoholic  refreshment  on  board,  and  welcomed 
us  to  Port  Phillip.  Well  is  remembered  even  now 
the    richly-green    appearance    of    the    under-stocked 

issy  Hat  upon  which  the  particularly  small  village 
of  Williamstown  stood.  A  few  cottages,  more  huts 
— with  certain  public-houses,  of  course — made  up 
the  township.  More  distinctly  marked  even  were 
the  succulence  and  juiciness  of  the  first  Port  Phillip 
mutton-chops    upon    which    was    regaled   our   keenly 

i  A.D.  1840  3 

hungry  party.  We  had  just  quitted  the  enfeebled 
meat  markets  of  Sydney,  scarce  recovered  from  that 
terrible  drought  which  wasted  the  years  of  1837, 
1838,  and  1839.  We  had  reached  a  land  of 
Goshen  evidently — a  land  of  milk  and  butter,  if  not 
of  honey — a  land  of  chops  and  steaks,  of  sirloins 
and  "  under-cuts  " — of  all  youthful  luxuries  well-nigh 
forgotten — of  late  unattainable  in  New  South  Wales 
as  strawberry  ice  in  a  cane-brake. 

Among  other  trifles  which  our  very  complete 
outfit  had  comprehended  was  a  small  steamboat 
adapted  for  the  tortuous  but  necessary  navigation  of 
the  Yarra  Yarra,  of  which  noble  stream,  moving 
calmly  through  walls  of  ti-tree,  we  commenced  to 
make  the  acquaintance.  This  steamerlet — she  was 
a  very  tiny  automaton,  puffing  out  of  all  proportion 
to  her  speed — but  the  only  funnel-bearer — think  of 
that,  Victorians  of  this  high-pressure  era  ! — had  been 
sent  down  by  the  head  of  the  family  the  voyage 
before,  safely  bestowed  upon  the  deck  of  a  larger 
vessel.  "  The  Movastar  was  a  better  boat,"  I 
daresay,  but  the  tiny  Firefly  bore  us  and  the  Lares 
and  Penates  of  many  other  "  first  families  " — in  the 
sense  of  priority — safely  to  terra  firma  on  the  north 
side  of  what  was  then  called  the  "  Yarra  Basin." 
This  was  an  oval-shaped  natural  enlargement  of  the 
average  width  of  the  river,  much  as  a  waterhole  in 
a  creek  exceeds  the  ordinary  channel.  The  energetic 
Batman  and  the  sturdy  Cobbett  of  the  south,  Pascoe 
Fawkner,  had  thought  it  good  to  set  about  making 
a  town,  and  here  we  found  the  bustling  Britisher  of 
the  period  engaged  in  building  up  Melbourne  with 
might  and  main.      Our  leader  laid  it  down  at  that 


time,  as  the  result  of  his  experience  of  many  lands, 
that  the  new  colony,  being  outside  of  36  deg.  south 
latitude,  would  not  be  scourged  with  droughts  as  had 
been  New  South  Wales  from  her  commencement. 
In  great  measure,  and  absolutely  as  regarding  the 
western  portions  of  Victoria,  this  prophecy  has  been 
borne  out. 

Sufficient  time  had  elapsed  for  the  army  of 
mechanics,  then  established  in  Port  Phillip,  to  erect 
many  weatherboard  and  a  few  brick  houses.  Into 
a  cottage  of  the  latter  construction  we  were  hastily 
inducted,  pending  the  finishing  of  a  two-storied 
mansion  in  Flinders  Street,  not  very  far  from 
Prince's  Bridge.  Bridge  was  there  none  in  those 
days,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  ;  not  even  the 
humble  one  with  wooden  piers  that  spanned  the 
stream  later,  and  connected  Melbourne  people  with 
the  sandy  forest  of  South  Yarra,  then  much  despised 
for  its  alleged  agricultural  inferiority :  still  there  was 
a  punt.  You  could  get  across,  but  not  always  when 
you  wanted.  And  I  recall  the  incident  of  Captain 
Brunswick  Smyth,  late  of  the  50th  Regiment,  and 
the  first  commandant  of  mounted  police,  riding 
down  to  the  ferry,  from  which  the  guardian  was 
absent — "sick,  or  drunk,  or  suthin  " — and,  with 
military  impatience,  dashing  on  board  with  a  brace 
of  troopers,  who  pulled  the  lumbering  barge  across, 
and  fastened  her  to  the  farther  shore. 

Large  trees  at  that  time  studded  the  green 
meadow,  which,  after  the  winter  rain,  was  marshy 
and  reed-covered.  There  did  I  shoot,  and  bear  home 
with   schoolboy   pride,  a  blue  crane — the  Australian 

ion — who,   being   only   wounded,   "went   near"   to 

i  A.D.  1840  5 

pick  out  one  of  my  eyes,  wounding  my  cheek-bone 
with  a  sudden  stab  of  his  closed  beak.  The  lovely 
bronze -wing  pigeons  were  plentiful  then  amid  the 
wild  forest  tracks  of  Newtown,  afterwards  Colling- 
wood.  Many  times  have  I  and  my  boy  comrades 
stood  at  no  great  distance  from  the  present  populous 
suburb  and  wondered  whether  we  were  going  straight 
for  the  "  settlement,"  as  we  then  irreverently  styled 
the  wonder-city.  The  streets  of  the  new-born  town 
had  been  "  ruled  off,"  as  some  comic  person  phrased 
it,  very  straight  and  wide  ;  but  there  had  not  been 
sufficient  money  as  yet  available  from  the  somewhat 
closely-guarded  distant  Treasury  of  Sydney  to  clear 
them  from  stumps.  However,  as  in  most  commu- 
nities during  the  speculative  stage,  any  amount  was 
forthcoming  when  required  for  purposes  of  amusement. 
Balls,  picnics,  races,  and  dinners  were  frequent  and 
fashionable.  Driving  home  from  one  of  the  first- 
named  entertainments,  through  the  lampless  streets, 
a  carriage,  piloted  by  a  gallant  officer,  came  to  signal 
grief  against  a  stump.  The  ladies  were  thrown  out, 
the  carriage  thrown  over,  and  the  charioteer  fractured. 
Paterfamilias,  absent  on  business,  marked  his  dis- 
approval of  the  expedition  by  resolutely  refraining 
from  repairing  the  vehicle.  For  years  after  it  stood 
in  the  back  yard  with  cracked  panels,  a  monument 
of  domestic  miscalculation. 

It  must  be  terribly  humiliating  to  the  survivors  of 
that  "  first  rush  "  to  consider  what  untold  wealth  lay 
around  them  in  the  town  and  suburban  allotments, 
which  the  most  guarded  investment  would  have 
secured.  The  famous  subdivision  in  Collins  Street, 
upon   which  the  present  Bank   of  Australasia   now 


stands,  was  purchased  by  the  Wesleyan  denomination 
for  £70  !  Acres  and  half-acres  in  Flinders,  Collins, 
and  Elizabeth  Streets  were  purchased  at  the  first 
Government  sales  held  in  Sydney  at  similar  and 
lower  rates.  I  have  heard  the  late  Mr.  Jacques,  at 
that  time  acting  as  Crown  auctioneer,  selling  at  the 
Sydney  markets  ever  so  much  of  Williamstown,  at 
prices  which  would  cause  the  heart  of  the  land-dealer 
of  the  present  day  to  palpitate  strangely.  I  can 
hear  now  the  old  gentleman's  full,  sonorous  voice 
rolling  out  the  words,  "  Allotment  so-and-so,  parish  of 
Will-will-rook,"  the  native  names  being  largely  and 
very  properly  used.  "  Villamanatah  "  and  "  Maribyr- 
nong "  occurred,  I  think,  pretty  often  in  the  same 
series  of  sales.  The  invariable  increase  in  prices  after 
the  first  sales  led  naturally  to  a  species  of  South  Sea 
stock  bubbledom.  He  who  bought  to-day — and 
men  of  all  classes  shared  in  the  powerful  excitement 
— was  so  certain  of  an  advance  of  25,  50,  or  cent 
per  cent,  that  every  one  who  could  command  the 
wherewithal  hastened  to  the  land  lottery,  where  every 
ticket  was  a  prize.  Speculative  eagles  in  flocks  were 
gathered  around  the  carcase.  Borrowing  existed 
then,  though  undeveloped  as  one  of  the  fine  arts 
compared  to  its  latest  triumphs  ;  bills,  even  in  that 
struggling  infancy  of  banking,  were  thick  in  the 
air.  Successful  or  prospective  sales  necessitated 
champagne  lunches,  whereby  the  empty  bottles  — 
erstwhile  filled  with  that  cheerful  vintage — accumu- 
lated in  stacks  around  the  homes  and  haunts  of  the 
leading  operators.  The  reigning  Governor-General, 
on  a  Hying  visit  to  the  non-mineral  precursor  of 
Ballarat    and    BendigO,   noted   the   unparalleled   pro- 

i  A.D.  1840  7 

fusion,  and,  it  is  said,  refused  on  that  account  some 
request  of  the  self-elected  Patres  Conscripti  of  our 
Rome  in  long  clothes.  Farms,  in  blocks  of  forty  and 
eighty  acres,  had  been  marked  off  above  the  Yarra 
Falls.  They  had  been  purchased  at  prices  tending 
to  be  high,  as  prices  ruled  then.  But  they  could  not 
have  been  really  high,  for  one  of  them,  since  pretty 
well  known  as  Toorak,  for  years  rented  for  several 
thousands  per  annum,  and  possessing  a  value  of 
about  £1000  each  for  its  eighty  acres,  was  purchased 
by  an  early  colonist  for  less  than  ^"iooo,  all  told. 
It  was  subsequently  sold  by  him,  under  the  crushing 
pressure  of  the  panic  of  1842  and  1843,  for  £120. 

What  a  different  place  was  the  Flemington  race- 
course, say,  when  Victor  and  Sir  Charles  ran  for  the 
Town  Plate — when  Romeo's  white  legs  and  matchless 
shoulder  were  to  be  seen  thereon — when  Jack 
Hunter's  filly,  Hellcat,  won  the  Sir  Charles  Purse, 
furnished  by  a  generous  stud  patron  for  the  owners 
of  descendants  of  that  forgotten  courser.  Fancy  the 
change  to  the  Cup  day  with  Martini-Henry  coming 
in  !  Where  racing  springs  up,  there  also  do  differ- 
ences of  opinion  frequently  occur.  With  respect  to 
the  said  victory  of  Hellcat,  then  the  property  of  Jack 
Hunter,  it  was  objected  by  a  well-known  "  horse 
couper  "  of  the  day,  known  as  "  Hopping  Jack,"  that 
she  was  no  true  descendant  of  Sir  Charles.  He  was 
contradicted  very  flatly,  and  sufficient  proof  having 
been  afforded  to  the  stewards,  her  owner  received  the 
stakes.  Still  the  mighty  mind  of  John  Ewart  held 
distrust  as  he  ambled  home,  dangling  his  "game" 
leg  on  his  eel-backed  bay  horse,  the  same  which 
carried  him  overland  from  Sydney  to  Melbourne  in 


ten  days — six  hundred  miles.  "A  sworn  horse- 
courser,"  like  Blount,  was  Hopping  Jack,  and,  unlike 
Marmion's  fast  squire,  had  ridden  many  a  steeple- 
chase. In  the  quickly  shifting  adventure-scope  of 
the  day  it  chanced  that  the  two  Jacks  went  to  sea, 
desiring  to  revisit  Scotia,  doubtless  for  their  pecuniary 
benefit.  A  great  storm  arose,  and  the  homeward- 
bound  vessel  was  wrecked.  The  passengers  barely 
escaped  with  their  lives,  and  were  forced  to  return  to 
Port  Phillip.  At  one  period  of  the  disaster  there  was 
little  or  no  hope  for  the  lives  of  all.  As  they  clung 
gloomily  to  the  uplifted  deck — fast  on  a  reef — 
Hopping  Jack  approached  Mr.  Hunter  with  a  grave 
and  resolved  air.  All  waited  to  hear  his  words.  In 
that  solemn  hour  he  proved  the  exquisite  accuracy 
of  the  thought,  "  The  ruling  passion  strong  in  death," 
by  thus  adjuring  his  turf  acquaintance,  "  Look  here, 

Mr.    Hunter,    we    shall    all    be    in in    twenty 

minutes,  it  can't  matter  much  now.  Was  Hellcat 
really  a  Sir  Charles?"  History  is  silent  as  to  the 

How  strange  a  Melbourne  would  the  picture — 
still  distinctly  photographed  on  memory's  wondrous 
"negative" — present  to  the  inhabitant  of  1884.  A 
solitary  wood  cart  is  struggling  down  from  the  direc- 
tion of  Brighton  along  the  unmade  sandy  track, 
patiently  to  await  the  convenience  of  the  puntman. 
Frank  Liardet  is  driving  his  unicorn  omnibus  team 
from  the  lonely  beach,  where  now  the  sailors  revel  in 
many  a  glittering  bar,  and  the  tall  sugar-refinery 
chimney  "lifts  its  head"  and  smokes — or,  at  any 
rate,  did  recently.  The  squatter's  wool -freighted 
bullock-teams  lumber  along  the  deep  ruts  of  Flinders 

i  A.D.  1840  9 

Lane.  John  Pascoe  Favvkner  bustles  up  and  down 
the  western  end,  at  that  time  the  fashionable  part, 
of  Collins  Street.  The  eastern  portion  of  that  street 
— now  decorated  with  palatial  clubs  and  treasuries, 
and  dominated  by  doctors — was  then  principally 
known  as  "  the  way  to  the  Plenty,"  a  rivulet  on  the 
banks  of  which  still  abode  certain  cheerful  young 
agricultural  aristocrats,  who  had  not  had  time  quite 
to  ruin  themselves.  Now  a  whole  tribe  of  blacks — 
wondering  and  frightened,  young  and  old,  warriors 
and  greybeards,  women  and  children — is  being  driven 
along  Collins  Street  by  troopers,  on  their  way  to  the 
temporary  gaol,  there  to  be  incarcerated  for  real  or 
fancied  violence.  The  philanthropist  may  console 
himself  with  the  knowledge  that  they  burrowed  under 
their  dungeon  slabs  and,  I  think,  escaped.  If  not, 
they  were  released  next  day. 

Mr.  Latrobe,  successor  of  Captain  Lonsdale,  on  a 
state  day — not  styled  Governor,  but  his  Honour  the 
Superintendent — is  riding  towards  Batman's  Hill  on 
a  crop-eared  hog-maned  cob,  yclept  Knocker- 
croghery,  attired  in  uniform,  escorted  by  Captain 
Smyth  and  his  terrible  mounted  police,  the  only 
military  force  of  the  day.  The  great  plains,  the 
wide  forest-parks,  shut  closely  in  the  little  town  on 
every  side.  Countless  swans  and  ducks  are  disport- 
ing themselves  in  unscared  freedom  upon  the  great 
West  Melbourne  marsh.  The  travel-stained  squatter 
rides  wearily  up  to  the  livery  stable,  as  yet  unable 
to  shorten  by  coach  or  rail  a  mile  of  his  journey. 



It  seems  only  the  other  day — but  surely  it  must  be 
a  long  time  ago — that  January  evening  of  1844, 
when  I  camped  my  cattle  near  the  old  burying- 
ground  at  North  Melbourne.  I  was  bound  for  the 
Western  district,  where  I  proposed  to  "  take  up  a 
run."  And  towards  this  pastoral  paradise  the  dawn 
saw  my  "  following  "  winding  its  way  next  morning. 

A  modest  drove  and  slender  outfit  were  mine  ; 
all  that  the  hard  times  had  spared.  Two  or  three 
hundred  well-bred  cattle,  a  dray  and  team  with  pro- 
visions for  six  months,  two  stock-horses,  one  faithful 
old  servant,  one  young  ditto  (unfaithful),  ,£1  in  my 
purse  —  voila  tout.  Rather  a  limited  capital  to 
begin  the  world  with  ;  but  what  did  I  want  with 
money  in  those  days  ?  I  was  a  boy,  which  means 
a  prince — happy,  hopeful,  healthy,  beyond  all  latter- 
day  possibilities,  bound  on  a  journey  to  seek  my 
fortune.  All  the  fairy-tale  conditions  were  fulfilled. 
I  had  "  horse  to  ride  and  weapon  to  wear  " — that  is, 
a  1  2-foot  stock-whip  by  Nangus  Jack — clothes,  tools, 
guns,  and    ammunition  ;  a    new   world    around    and 

chap,  ii  THE  FAR   WEST  n 

beyond  ;  what  could  money  do  for  the  gentleman- 
adventurer  burning  with  anticipation  of  heroic 
exploration  ?  Such  thoughts  must  have  passed 
through  my  brain,  inasmuch  as  I  invested  75  per 
cent  of  my  cash  in  the  purchase  of  a  cattle  dog. 
Poor  Dora,  she  barked  her  last  some  thirty-five  years 

On  the  next  day  we  crossed  the  Moonee  Ponds 
at  Flemington,  took  the  Keilor  road,  and  managed 
to  bustle  our  mob  all  the  way  to  the  Werribee.  A 
slightly  unfair  journey  ;  but  the  summer  day  was 
long,  and  we  made  the  river  with  the  fading  light 
about  eight.  I  had  a  reason,  too.  Here  bivouacked 
my  good  old  friend  the  late  William  Ryrie,  of  Yering. 
He,  too,  was  journeying  to  the  west  country  with  a 
large  drove  of  Upper  Yarra  stores.  He  had  kindly 
consented  to  join  forces — an  arrangement  more  to 
my  advantage  than  his.  So,  as  his  cattle  were 
drawing  into  camp,  I  cheerfully  "  boxed "  mine 
therewith,  and  relieved  myself  by  the  act  of  further 

Night  watches  were  duly  set,  after  an  evening 
meal  of  a  truly  luxurious  character.  I  felt  at  odd 
moments  as  if  I  would  have  given  all  the  world  for 
a  doze  unrebuked.  At  last  the  whole  four  mortal 
hours  came  to  an  end.  Then  I  understood,  almost 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  what  "  first-class  sleep  " 
really  meant. 

At  sunrise  I  awoke  much  fresher  than  paint,  and 
walking  to  the  door  of  the  tent,  which  held  three 
stretchers — those  of  the  leader  of  the  party,  his 
brother  Donald,  and  myself — looked  out  upon  the 
glorious  far-stretching  wild.     What  a  sight  was  there, 


seen  with  the  eyes  of  unworn,  undoubting  youth ! 
On  three  sides  lay  the  plains,  a  dimly  verdurous  ex- 
panse, over  which  a  night  mist  was  lifting  itself  along 
the  line  of  the  river.  The  outline  of  the  Anakie- 
You  Yangs  range  was  sharply  drawn  against  the 
dawn-lighted  horizon,  while  far  to  the  north-east  was 
seen  the  forest-clothed  summit  of  Mount  Macedon, 
and  westward  gleamed  the  sea.  The  calm  water  of 
Corio  Bay  and  the  abrupt  cone  of  Station  Peak,  nearly 
in  the  line  of  our  route,  formed  an  unmistakable  yet 
picturesque  landmark. 

The  cattle,  peacefully  grazing,  were  spread  over 
the  plain,  having  been  released  from  camp.  The 
horses  were  being  brought  in  ;  among  them  I  was 
quick  to  distinguish  my  valuable  pair.  Old  Watts, 
the  campkeeper,  a  hoary  retainer  of  Yering — who 
gave  his  name  to  the  affluent  of  the  Yarra  so  called 
— was  cooking  steaks  for  breakfast.  Everything 
was  delightfully  new,  strangely  exhilarating,  with  a 
fresh  flavour  of  freedom  and  adventure. 

After  breakfast  we  saddled  up,  and,  mounting  our 
horses,  strolled  on  after  a  leisurely  fashion  with  the 
cattle.  I  was  riding,  as  became  an  Australian,  a 
four-year-old  colt,  my  own  property,  and  bred  in  the 
family.  A  grandson  of  Skeleton  and  of  Satellite,  he 
was  moderately  fast  and  a  great  stayer.  Mr. 
Donald  Ryrie  rode  a  favourite  galloway  yclept  Dumple 
— a  choice  roadster  and  clever  stock-horse,  much 
resembling  in  outline  Dandle  Dinmont's  historic 
"  powney."  He  and  I  were  sufficiently  near  in  age 
to  enjoy  discursive  conversation  during  the  long, 
slightly  tedious  driving  hours,  to  an  extent  which 
occasionally    impaired    our    usefulness.       When     in 

ii  THE  FAR  WEST  13 

argument  or  narrative  we  permitted  "  the  tail "  to 
straggle  unreasonably  we  were  sharply  recalled  to 
our  duty.  Our  kind-hearted  choleric  leader  then 
adopted  language  akin  to  that  in  which  the  ruffled 
M.F.H.  exhorts  the  erring  horsemen  of  his  field. 

Ah  me,  what  pleasant  days  were  those  !  A  little 
warm,  even  hot,  doubtless.  But  we  could  take  off 
our  coats  without  fear  of  Mrs.  Grundy.  There  was 
plenty  of  grass.  "  Travelling "  was  an  honourable 
and  recognised  occupation  in  those  Arcadian  times. 
"  Purchased  land "  was  an  unknown  quantity. 
Droughts  were  disbelieved  in,  and  popularly  supposed 
to  belong  exclusively  to  the  "  Sydney  side."  The 
horses  were  fresh,  the  stages  were  moderate,  and 
when  a  halt  was  called  at  sundown  the  cattle  soon 
lay  contentedly  down  in  the  soft,  thick  grass.  The 
camp  fires  were  lighted,  and  another  pleasant,  hope- 
ful day  was  succeeded  by  a  restful  yet  romantic  night. 

So  we  fared  on  past  the  Little  River  and  Fyans' 
Ford,  where  a  certain  red  cow  of  mine  was  nearly 
drowned,  and  had  to  be  left  behind  ;  then  to  Beale's, 
on  the  Barwon  ;  thence  to  Colac,  for  we  had  decided 
to  take  the  inner  road  and  not  to  go  by  "  the  French- 
man's," or  "  Cressy,"  then  represented  solely  by  Mon- 
sieur (and  Madame)  Duverney's  Inn,  as  it  was  then 

Apropos  of  Fyans'  Ford,  there  was  an  inn  as  we 
passed  up.  When  returning  I  met  with  an  adventure 
nearly  similar  to  that  in  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer." 
I  left  the  station  for  Melbourne  in  the  December 
following,  having  earned  a  Christmas  at  home. 
When  I  arrived  at  Geelong  I  turned  out  early  next 
morning,  and  rode  to  Fyans'  Ford  to  see  if  I  could 


find  "  tale  or  tidings  "  of  the  red  cow  left  behind,  as 
before  mentioned.  How  honest  were  nearly  all  men 
in  those  days  !  I  did  hear  of  her,  and,  having  dis- 
covered her  whereabouts,  I  went  to  the  old  house  to 
breakfast,  preparatory  to  riding  to  Heidelberg,  fifty- 
seven  miles  all  told,  that  night. 

Dismounting  at  the  stable  door,  I  gave  my  mare 
to  the  groom,  with  a  brisk  injunction  as  to  a  good 
feed,  and  passed  into  the  house.  In  the  parlour  was 
a  maid-servant  laying  the  breakfast.  I  stood  before 
the  fireplace  in  an  easy  attitude,  and  demanded  when 
breakfast  would  be  ready. 

"In  about  half  an  hour,  sir."  I  noticed  a  slightly 
surprised  air. 

"  Can't  you  get  it  a  little  sooner,  Mary  ? "  I  said, 
guessing  at  her  name  with  the  affability  of  a  tavern 
guest  of  fashion  and  substance. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  she  made  answer  meekly. 

"  Come,  Mary,"  I  said,  "  surely  you  could  manage 
something  in  less  time  ?  I  have  a  long  way  to  ride 

She  smiled,  and  was  about  to  reply,  when  a  door 
opened,  and  a  middle-aged  personage,  with  full  mili- 
tary whiskers,  and  an  air  of  authority,  looked  in. 

"  I  don't  think  I  have  the  pleasure  of  knowing 
you,  sir,"  he  stated,  with  a  certain  dignity. 

"  No,"  I  said  ;  "  no  !  I  think  not.  Not  been  here 
since  last  year."  (I  did  not  particularly  see  the 
necessity  either.)  I  was  cool  and  cheerful,  and  it 
struck  me  that,  for  an  innkeeper,  he  was  over-punc- 

"  This  is  no  inn,  sir,"  he  said,  with  increased 

ii  THE  FAR  WEST  15 

In  a  moment  my  position  flashed  upon  me.  I 
then  remembered  I  had  not  noticed  the  sign  as  I  rode 
up.  The  house  and  grounds,  large  and  extensive, 
had  been  occupied  by  a  private  family.  Nothing 
very  uncommon  about  that.  So  here  had  I  been 
ordering  my  horse  to  be  fed,  and  lecturing  the 
parlour-maid,  all  the  while  in  a  strange  gentleman's 

I  could  not  help  laughing,  but  immediately  pro- 
ceeded to  apologise  fully  and  formally,  at  the  same 
time  pointing  out  that  the  place  had  been  an  inn 
when  I  last  saw  it.  Hence  my  mistake,  which  I 
sincerely  regretted.  I  bowed,  and  made  for  the 

My  host's  visage  relaxed.  "  Come,"  he  said,  "  I 
see  how  it  all    happened.      But  you  must   not   lose 

your  breakfast  for  all  that.      Mrs. will  be  ready 

directly,  and  my  daughter.      I  trust  you  will  give  us 
the  pleasure  of  your  company." 

"  All's  well  that  ends  well."  I  was  introduced  to 
the  ladies  of  the  house,  who  made  themselves  agree- 
able. There  was  a  good  laugh  over  my  invasion  of 
the  parlour  and  Mary's  astonishment.  I  breakfasted 
with  appetite.  We  parted  cordially.  And,  as  my 
mare  carried  me  to  Heidelberg  that  night  without 
a  sign  of  distress,  she  probably  had  breakfasted  well 

I  recollect — how  well  ! — the  night  I  reached 
Lake  Colac.  Mr.  Hugh  Murray  had,  I  think,  the 
only  station  upon  it,  and  the  Messrs.  Dennis  were 
a  short  distance  on  the  hither  side.  The  Messrs. 
Robertson  farther  on.  The  cattle  had  rather  a  long 
day  without  water.      Not  quite  so  bad  as  the  Old 


Man  Plain,  but  a  good  stretch.  We  did  not  "  make  " 
the  lake  until  after  dark.  How  they  all  rushed  in  ! 
It  was  shallow,  and  sound  as  to  bottom.  We  con- 
cluded to  let  them  alone,  not  believing  that  they 
would  wander  far  through  such  good  feed  before  day. 
So  we  had  our  supper  cheerfully,  and  turned  in. 
We  could  hear  them  splashing  about  in  the  water, 
drinking  exhaustively,  and  finally  returning  in  division. 
At  daylight,  the  first  man  up  (not  the  writer)  descried 
them  comfortably  camped,  nearly  all  down  within  a 
few  hundred  yards. 

How  far  is  the  Parin  Yallock  ?  It  is  many  a 
year  since  I  saw  the  Stony  Rises,  as  we  somewhat 
unscientifically  called  the  volcanic  trap  dykes  and 
lava  outflows,  now  riven  into  boulders  and  scoria 
masses,  yet  clothed  with  richest  grass  and  herbage, 
which  surround  for  many  miles  the  craters  of  Noorat, 
"  The  Sisters  " — Leura  and  Porndon.  Well,  we  took 
it  very  easily  along  that  pastoral  Eden,  the  garden 
of  Australia,  where  dwelt  pastoral  man  before  the 
Fall,  ere  he  was  driven  forth  into  far  sun-scorched 
drought -accursed  wilds  to  earn  his  bread  by  the 
sweat  of  his  brain,  and  to  bear  the  heart-sickness 
that  comes  of  hope  long  deferred  —  the  deadly 
despair  that  is  born  of  long  years  of  waiting  for 
slow  remorseless  ruin.  Ha  !  how  have  we  skipped 
over  half- a -century,  more  or  less!  Bless  you, 
nobody  was  ruined  in  those  golden  days,  because 
there  was  no  credit.  Riverina  was  almost  as  much 
a  terra  incognita  as  Borneo — much  more  the  Lower 
Macquaric  and  the  Upper  Bogan.  But  I  must  get 
back  to  Colac,  and  feel  the  thick  kangaroo  grass 
under  my  feet,  quite  as  thick  as  an  English  meadow 

ii  THE  FAR  WEST  17 

(I  have  been  there  since,  too),  as  Donald  and  I  led 
our  horses.  He  had  a  rein  which  slipped  out  at 
the  cheek,  contrived  on  purpose  for  his  horse,  and 
the  better  sustentation  of  him,  Dumple. 

We  leave  Captain  Fyans'  station  on  our  right. 
He  was  the  Crown  Lands  Commissioner  in  those 
days,  and  had  the  sense  to  take  up  a  small,  but 
very  choice,  bit  of  the  "  waste  lands  of  the  Crown  " 
on  his  own  account.  There  abide  the  "  FF  "  cattle 
to  this  day,  if  the  Messrs.  Robertson  have  not  deposed 
them  in  favour  of  sheep,  or  the  rabbits  eaten  them 
out  of  house  and  home. 

We  pass  the  police  station,  another  rich  pasture 
reserved  for  the  mounted  police  troopers  and  their 
chargers.  There  old  Hatsell  Garrard  dwelt  for  a 
season,  with  his  fresh-coloured  English  yeoman  face, 
his  pleasant,  racy  talk,  and  unerring  judgment  in 
horse-flesh.  Did  not  Cornborough,  that  grand  old 
son  of  Tramp,  emigrate  to  Victoria  under  his  auspices? 
I  need  say  no  more. 

Then  we  come  to  Scott  and  Richardson's,  the 
Parin  Yallock  station  proper.  Both  good  fellows. 
The  latter  might  aver  with  Ralph  Leigh — 

Those  were  the  days  when  my  beard  was  black, 

and  the  good  steed  Damper  was  not  much  averse  to 
"  a  stiff  top  rail,"  though  carrying  a  rider  considerably 
over  six  feet,  and  a  welter  weight  to  boot.  Between 
the  station  and  the  crossing-place — difficult  and 
dangerous  it  was,  too,  even  for  horsemen  — we 
camped.  It  came  on  to  rain.  It  was  our  only 
unpleasant  night  (except  one  when  we  missed  the 
drays  and  had  no  supper.      I  didn't  smoke  then   and 



oh  !  how  hungry  I  was).  The  cattle  were  uneasy, 
and  "  ringed "  all  night.  Next  morning  the  camp 
was  like  a  circus  on  a  large  scale.  The  soil  is  rich 
and  black.  I  have  seen  no  mud  to  speak  of  for  the 
last  ten  years.  Even  the  mud  in  those  parts  was  of 
a  superior  description. 

Next  day  we  faced  the  Parin  Yallock  Creek  and 
its  malign  ford — save  the  mark  !  One  dray  was 
bogged  ;  several  head  of  cattle  ;  my  colt  went  down 
tail  first,  and  nearly  "  turned  turtle,"  but  eventually 
the  corps  dartnie  got  safely  over  to  the  sound  but 
rugged  stony  rises.  Crossing  them,  we  reached  the 
broad  rich  flats  around  the  lovely  lake  of  Purrumbcct. 

It  was  late  when  we  got  there,  the  cattle  having 
been  hustled  and  bustled  to  get  out  of  the  labyrinthine 
stony  rises  before  dark  ;  and  the  day  turning  out 
warm  after  the  rain,  they  were  inclined  to  drink 
heartily.  To  this  intent  they  ran  violently  into 
the  lake,  I  don't  know  how  many  fathoms  deep,  and 
shelving  abruptly.  All  the  leaders  were  out  of  their 
depth  at  once,  and  swam  about  with  a  surprised  air. 
However,  the  beach  was  hard  and  smooth,  so  back 
they  came,  in  good  trim  to  set  to  at  the  luxuriant 
herbage  which  borders  the  lake  shore.  I  wonder 
what  the  Messrs.  Manifold  would  think  now  of  a 
thousand  head  ot  cattle  coming  ravaging  up  close  to 
the  house,  and  walking  into  their  clover  and  rye- 
grass, without  saying  "  by  your  leave,"  much  less 
"  reporting." 

When  the  day  broke  how  lovely  the  landscape 
seemed.  The  rugged  lava  country  that  we  had  left 
behind  had  given  place  to  immense  meadows  and 
grassy  slopes,  thinly  timbered  with  handsome  black- 

ii  THE  FAR  WEST  19 

wood  trees.  The  Lake  Purrumbeet  was  the  great 
central  feature — a  noble  sheet  of  water,  with  sloping 
green  banks,  and  endless  depth  of  the  fresh  pure 
element.  On  the  western  bank  was  built  a  comfort- 
able cottage,  where  flowers  and  fruit  trees  by  their 
unusual  luxuriance  bore  testimony  to  the  richness 
of  the  deep  black  alluvial. 

We  did  a  "lazyally"  sort  of  day — the  cattle 
knee -deep  in  grass,  every  one  taking  it  extremely 
easy.  Leura,  another  volcano  out  of  work,  surrounded 
by  wonderful  greenery,  wherein  the  station  cattle  lay 
about,  looking  like  prize-winners  that  had  strayed 
from  a  show-yard,  was  passed  about  mid-day.  Next 
morning  saw  us  at  Mr.  Neil  Black's  Basin  Bank 
station.  Here  we  saw  the  heifers  of  the  NB  herd. 
They  were  "  tailed  "  or  herded,  as  was  the  fashion  in 
those  days,  and  a  fine  well-grown,  well-bred  lot  they 
were.  The  overseer  was  either  Donald  or  Angus 
"to  be  sure  whateffer,"  one  of  a  draft  of  stalwart 
Highlanders  which  Mr.  Black  used  to  import  annually. 
Very  desirable  colonists  they  were,  and  as  soon  as 
they  "  got  the  English,"  a  matter  of  some  difficulty 
at  the  outset,  they  commenced  to  save  money  at  a 
noticeable  rate.  A  fair-sized  section  of  the  Western 
district  is  now  populated  by  these  Glenormiston 
clansmen  and  their  descendants,  and  no  man  was 
better  served  than  their  worthy  chief — Neil  of 
that  ilk. 

From  Basin  Bank  we  drove  towards  the  late 
Mr.  William  Hamilton's  Yallock  station,  where  we 
abode  one  night.  Here,  or  at  the  next  stage,  the 
trail  was  not  so  plain.  I  have  a  reminiscence  of  our 
having  camped  one  night  at  a  spot  not  intended  for 


such  a  halt,  and  losing  our  supper  in  consequence. 
No  doubt  we  made  up  for  it  at  breakfast. 

Now  we  had  come  to  the  end  of  the  genuine 
Colac  country.  What  we  were  approaching  was  a 
good  land,  richly  grassed,  and,  agriculturally  speaking, 
perhaps  superior  to  the  other.  But  I  shall  always 
consider  the  sub-district  that  I  have  just  described, 
including  Messrs.  Black's,  Robertson's,  Manifold's, 
and  one  or  two  other  properties,  having  regard  to 
soil,  climate,  pasture,  and  distance  from  a  metropolis, 
as  the  very  choicest  area  to  be  found  in  the  whole 
Australian  continent. 

A  kw  more  days'  easy  travelling  took  us  nearly 
to  our  journey's  end.  We  reached  the  bank  of  the 
Merai,  at  Grasmere,  the  head  station  of  the  Messrs. 
Bolden,  and  there,  not  many  miles  from  the  site  of 
the  flourishing  township  of  Warrnambool,  we  drafted 
our  respective  cattle,  and  went  different  ways — Mr. 
Ryric's  to  his  run,  not  far  from  Tower  Hill,  and  mine 
to  appropriate  some  unused  country  between  the 
Merai  and  the  sea. 

Here  I  camped  for  about  six  months,  and  a  right 
joyous  time  it  was  in  that  "  kingdom  by  the  sea." 
I  remember  riding  down  to  the  shore  one  bright 
day,  just  below  where  Warrnambool  now  stands. 
No  trace  of  man  or  habitation  was  there,  "  nor  roof 
nor  latched  door."  As  I  rode  over  the  sand  hummock 
which  bordered  the  beach,  a  draft  of  out-lying  cattle, 
basking  in  the  sun  on  the  farther  side,  rose  and 
galloped  off.  All  else  was  silent  and  tenantless  as 
before  the  days  of  Cook. 

I  took  up  my  abode  provisionally  upon  the  bank 
of  the  Merai,  which,  near  the  mouth,  was  a  broad 

ii  THE  FAR  WEST  21 

and  imposing  stream,  and  turned  out  my  herd.  My 
stockman  and  I  spent  our  days  in  "  going  round " 
the  cattle  ;  shooting  and  kangaroo-hunting  in  odd 
times — recreation  to  which  he,  as  an  ex-poacher  of 
considerable  experience,  took  very  kindly.  The 
pied  goose,  here  in  large  flocks,  with  duck,  teal, 
pigeons,  and  an  occasional  wild  turkey,  were  our 
chief  sport  and  sustenance. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  was  the  first 
cultivated  area  in  the  Port  Fairy  district,  then  known 
as  Campbell's  farm.  An  old  colonial  whaling  com- 
pany had  their  headquarters  at  the  Port,  and  Captain 
Campbell,  a  stalwart  Highlander  long  known  as 
Port  Fairy  Campbell,  had  utilised  his  spare  crews 
in  the  early  days,  and  tested  the  richness  of  that 
famous  tract  of  fertile  land  now  known  as  the 
Farnham  Survey. 

We  were  not  without  practical  demonstration  of 
the  bounty  of  the  soil.  One  evening  I  was  astonished 
to  see  splendid  mealy  potatoes  served  up  with  the 
accustomed  corned  beef. 

"  Where  did  you  get  these,  Mrs.  Burge  ? "  said  I 
to  the  stockman's  wife. 

"  From  the  lubras,"  rather  consciously  ;  "  I  gave 
them  beef  in  exchange." 

"  A  very  fair  one,"  but  a  light  suddenly  striking 
upon  my  mental  vision, — "  Where  do  the  lubras  get 
them  from  ?     They  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  for  certain,  sir,"  she  answered, 
looking  down,  "  but  they're  digging  the  potato 
crop,  I  believe,  at  Campbell's  farm."  Here  was 
foreshadowed  the  enormous  Warrnambool  export, 
that  immense  intercolonial  potato  trade,  which  has 

22  OLD  MELBOURNE  MEMORIES         chap,  ii 

latterly  assumed  such  proportions,  and  which  in- 
vades even  this  far  north-western  corner  of  New 
South  Wales.  What  glorious  times  I  had,  gun  in 
hand,  or  with  our  three  famous  kangaroo  dogs, 
slaying  the  swift  marsupial.  In  those  days  he 
was  tolerated  and  rather  admired,  no  one  imagining 
that  he  would  be,  a  couple  of  generations  later,  a 
scourge  and  an  oppressor,  eating  the  sparse  herbage 
of  the  overstocked  squatter,  and  being  classed  as  a 
"  noxious  animal,"  with  a  price  actually  put  on  his 
head  by  utilitarian  legislators. 



THOUGH  kangaroo  were  plentiful,  they  were  not  so 
overwhelming  in  number  as  they  have  since  become. 
Joe  Burge  and  I  had  many  a  day's  good  sport 
together  on  foot.  Like  Mr.  Sawyer  and  other 
sensible  people,  we  often  saved  our  horses  by  using 
our  own  legs.  For  the  dogs,  Chase  was  a  rough- 
haired  Scotch  deerhound,  not  quite  pure,  yet  had  she 
great  speed  and  courage.  Nothing  daunted  her.  I 
saw  her  once  jump  off  a  dray,  where  she  was  in 
hospital  with  a  broken  leg  (it  had  been  smashed 
by  the  kick  of  an  emu),  and  hobble  off  after  a 
sudden-appearing  kangaroo.  She  was  said  to  have 
killed  a  dingo  at  ten  months  old — no  trifling  feat. 

Nero  and  Violet  were  brother  and  sister.  They 
were  smooth-haired  greyhounds — the  ordinary  kan- 
garoo dog  of  the  colonist — very  fast ;  and  from  a 
distant  cross  of  "  bull "  had  inherited  an  utter 
fearlessness  of  disposition,  which  was  rather  against 
them,  as  the  sequel  will  show. 

Violet  was  so  fast  that  she  could  catch  the  brush 
kangaroo  (the  wallaby)  within  sight.      We  rarely  had 


occasion  to  search  if  they  started  close  to  our  feet, 
and  the  largest  and  fiercest  "  old  man  "  forester  did 
not  seem  to  be  too  heavy  weight  for  her.  When  he 
stood  at  bay  she  would  fly  in  at  the  throat,  instead 
of  looking  out  for  a  side  chance.  In  consequence 
she  was  awfully  cut  up  many  times  when  a  more 
cunning  dog  would  have  escaped  scatheless. 

One  afternoon  Joe  and  I  had  taken  a  longer 
round  than  usual  on  foot,  and  were  returning  by  the 
beach,  when  we  heard  Violet's  bark  a  long  way  in 
front.  We  knew  then  that  she  had  "  stuck  up  "  or 
brought  to  bay  a  large  forester.  If  middle-sized  she 
would  have  killed  him  ;  in  that  case  running  mute. 
So  it  was  an  "  old  man  "  large  enough  to  stand  and 

"  We'd  better  get  on,  sir,"  said  Joe  ;  "  the  poor 
slut'll  be  cut  to  ribbons.  She's  a  plucky  little  fool, 
and  don't  know  how  to  save  herself." 

On  we  went,  both  running  our  best.  We  were 
in  decent  wind,  but  it  was  a  couple  of  miles  before 
we  reached  "  hound  and  quarry."  Some  time  had 
elapsed,  and  the  fight  had  been  many  times  renewed. 
When  we  got  up  the  grassy  spot  was  trampled  all 
around,  and  in  more  than  one  place  were  deep  red 
stains.  Both  animals  were  dreadfully  exhausted. 
The  great  marsupial  —  the  height  of  a  tall  man 
when  he  raised  himself  on  his  haunches — was 
covered  with  blood  from  the  throat  and  breast, 
his  haunches  were  deeply  pierced  by  the  dog's 
sharp  fangs,  but  his  terrible  claws  had  inflicted 
some  frightful  gashes  adown  Violet's  chest  and 
flanks.  As  she  feebly  circled  round  him,  barking 
hoarsely,    she    staggered    with    weakness  ;     but    her 


eye  was  bright  and  keen — there  was  not  a  shade 
of  surrender  about  her. 

Joe  rushed  in  at  once  and  struck  the  old  man 
full  between  the  eyes  with  a  heavy  stick.  He  fell 
prone,  and  lay  like  a  log.  Violet  staggered  to  his 
throat,  which  she  seized,  but,  having  not  another 
grain  of  strength,  fell  alongside  of  him,  panting 
and  sobbing  until  her  whole  frame  shook  convulsed. 
I  never  saw  a  dog  suffer  so  much  from  over-exertion. 
There  was  water  near,  and  we  carried  her  to  it  and 
bathed  her  head  and  neck.  She  had  three  terrible 
gashes,  the  blood  from  which  we  could  not  manage 
to  stanch.  Joe  was  genuinely  affected.  The  tears 
came  into  his  eyes  as  he  looked  on  the  suffering 
creature.  "  Poor  little  slut !  "  he  said  ;  "  I'm  doubtful 
it's  her  last  hunt.  Pity  we  hadn't  took  the  horses, 
we  should  ha'  bin  up  sooner,  and  saved  that  old 
savage  from  '  mercy-creeing '  of  her.  Anyhow,  I'll 
carry  her  home  and  see  what  the  missis  can  do 
for  her." 

He  did  so.  I  walking  sadly  behind,  the  dumb 
brute  looking  up  at  him  with  grateful  eyes,  and  from 
time  to  time  licking  his  hand.  She  was  nursed  by 
Mrs.  Burge  like  a  child.  We  tried  all  our  simple 
remedies,  sewed  up  the  gaping  wounds,  and  even 
went  to  the  length  of  a  tonic,  suited  to  her 
condition.  But  it  was  of  no  use.  The  loss  of 
blood  and  consequent  exhaustion  had  been  too 
great.  Violet  died  that  night,  and  for  the  next 
few  days  a  gloom  fell  over  our  little  household  as 
at  the  death  of  a  friend. 

A  curious  spot,  in  some  respects,  was  that  which 
I  had  pitched  on — full  of  interest  and  variety.      The 


river  ran  in  front  of  our  hut-door,  losing  itself  in  wide 
marshes  that  marked  its  entrance  to  the  sea.  It  was 
a  capital  natural  paddock,  as  at  a  distance  of  five  or 
six  miles  the  River  Hopkins  ran  parallel  to  it  towards 
the  sea.  Neither  river  was  fordable,  except  at  certain 
points,  easily  protected.  Across  the  upper  portion 
was  a  fence,  running  from  river  to  river,  and  some 
ten  miles  from  the  sea,  put  up  by  the  Messrs. 
Bolden,  when  this  was  one  of  their  extensive 
series  of  runs,  and,  indeed,  known  as  the  bullock 

Warrnambool,  as  I  before  stated,  was  as  yet 
unborn.  There  was  not  an  allotment  marked  or 
sold,  a  hut  built,  a  sod  turned.  No  sound  in 
those  days  broke  upon  the  ear  but  the  ceaseless 
surge-music  ;  no  sight  met  the  eye  but  the  endless 
forest,  the  sand-hills,  and  the  long,  bright  plain  of 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  calm  for  the  most  part,  but 
lashed  to  madness  in  winter  by  furious  south- 
easterly gales.  Its  jetties  and  warehouses,  mayor 
and  municipal  council,  villas  and  cottages,  fields 
and  gardens,  were  still  in  the  future.  Nought  to  be 
seen  but  the  sand-dunes  and  surges;  little  to  be 
heard  save  the  sea-bird's  cry.  But  at  the  old 
whaling  station  of  Port  Fairy  the  town  of  Belfast 
—  so  named  by  the  late  Mr.  James  Atkinson  — 
had  arisen,  and  its  white  limestone  walls  afforded 
a  pleasing  contrast  to  the  surrounding  forest.  It 
lay  between  the  mouth  of  the  River  Moyne  and 
the  sea.  An  open  roadstead,  suspiciously  garnished 
with  wrecks,  told  a  talc  of  the  harbour  which  afforded 
a  larger  element  of  truth  than  invitation. 

Chief   among    the    pioneers    were    Messrs.   John 


Griffiths  and  Co.,  who  had,  for  many  years,  main- 
tained extensive  whaling  stations  on  the  coast 
between  Port  Fairy  and  Portland. 

Captain  Campbell,  then  and  long  after  widely 
known  as  Port  Fairy  Campbell,  was  their  principal 
superintendent  of  fleets  and  fisheries,  farms  and 
stores.  He,  in  the  pre-land-sale  days,  like  John 
Mostyn,  "  bare  rule  over  all  that  land "  ;  and, 
moreover,  if  legends  are  true,  "  on  those  who 
misliked  him  he  laid  strong  hand."  His  sway 
was  for  many  a  league  of  sea  and  shore  un- 
questioned, and  no  "  leading  case  "  will  carry  down 
his  memory  to  budding  barristers.  He  never, 
however,  relinquished  his  faith  in  prompt  personal 
redress,  and  years  aftenvards,  when  harbour-master 
in  Hobson's  Bay,  regretted  to  me  that  the  etiquette 
of  the  civil  service  forbade  him  to  convince  a 
contumacious  shipmaster  by  the  simple  whaling 
argument.  Among  his  lieutenants,  John  and 
Charles  Mills  held  the  highest  traditional  rank. 
The  brothers,  natives  of  Tasmania,  were  splendid 
men  physically,  and  as  sailors  no  bolder  or  better 
hands  ever  trod  plank  or  handled  oar. 

Years  afterwards  I  made  one  of  a  crowd  assembled 
on  the  Port  Fairy  beach  to  watch  a  vessel  encounter- 
ing at  her  anchors  the  fury  of  a  south-easterly  gale. 
A  wild  morning,  I  trow  ;  the  sky  red-gloomy  with 
storm-clouds  ;  the  fierce  tempest  beating  down  the 
crests  of  the  leaping  eager  billows  ;  the  air  full  of  a 
concentrated  wrath  which  prevented  all  sounds  save 
its  own  from  being  audible. 

It  was  impossible  that  the  barque  could  ride 
the     gale     out,    and,    in    anticipation,    the     skipper 


had  all  his  sails  bent  and    merely  made  fast  with 

The  supreme  moment  came.  After  a  hurricane- 
blast  which  transcended  all  former  air-madness,  we 
saw  the  vessel  quit  her  position.  A  hundred  voices 
shouted,  "  Her  anchors  are  gone  ! "  In  an  instant, 
as  it  seemed  to  us,  every  sail  was  unfurled,  and  she 
swung  round,  with  her  stem  towards  the  white  line 
of  ravening  breakers.  We  had  before  us  the  unusual 
spectacle  of  a  ship  with  every  stitch  of  canvas  set 
going  before  the  wind,  and  such  a  wind,  dead  on  to 
a  lee  shore. 

Proudly  and  swift  she  came  gallantly  on,  while 
we  watched,  half-breathless,  to  see  her  strike.  A 
sudden  pause,  a  total  arrest.  The  good  ship 
struggled  for  a  space,  like  a  sentient  creature  in 
the  toils,  then  broached  to,  and  the  wild,  triumphant 
waves  broke  over  her  from  stem  to  stern. 

But  the  situation  had  been  foreseen.  A  dozen 
willing  hands  dragged  out  one  of  the  whaleboats, 
and  what  sea  ever  ran  which  a  whaleboat  could  not 
live  in  ?  She  was  safely,  though  with  desperate 
exertion,  launched,  and  we  soon  watched  her  rising 
and  falling  amid  the  tremendous  rollers  that  came 
thundering  in.  At  her  stern  was  the  tall  form  of 
Charley  Mills  standing  unmoved  with  a  1 6-foot 
steer  oar  in  his  strong  grasp,  one  of  the  grandest 
exhibitions  of  human  strength,  skill,  and  courage 
that  eyes  ever  looked  on. 

The  skipper  had  carried  out  his  immediate 
purpose  successfully.  He  had  run  his  vessel  in 
comparatively  close,  by  charging  the  beach  at  the 
pace  which  he  had  put  on  ;  and   in  successive  trips 


of  the  whaleboat  the  crew  were  landed  in  safety. 
And  though  the  barque's  "  ribs  and  trucks  "  added 
another  unprepossessing  feature  to  Port  Fairy 
harbour,  no  greater  loss  occurred. 

Captain  John  Mills,  afterwards  harbour -master 
of  the  port  of  Belfast,  and  long  a  master  mariner  in 
the  trade  between  Belfast  and  Sydney,  was  the 
elder  of  these  two  brothers.  In  his  way,  also,  a 
grand  personage.  Not  quite  so  tall  as  his  younger 
brother,  he  was  fully  six  feet  in  height,  powerfully 
built,  and  a  very  handsome  man  to  boot.  There 
was  an  expression  of  calm  courage  about  his  face 
and  general  bearing  which  always  reminded  one  of 
a  lion.  He  had  had,  doubtless,  as  a  whaler  and 
voyager  to  New  Zealand  and  the  islands,  scores  of 
hairbreadth  escapes.  After  such  a  stormy  life  it 
must  have  been  a  wondrous  change  to  settle  down, 
as  he  did,  quietly  for  the  rest  of  his  days  in  the 
little  village  as  harbour-master.  He  is  gone  to  his 
rest,  I  think,  as  well  as  the  grand,  stalwart  boat- 
steerer.  They  will  always  live  in  men's  minds,  I 
doubt  not,  on  the  west  coast  of  Victoria,  among  the 
heroes  of  the  storied  past.  I  remember  once, 
indeed,  at  a  great  public  dinner,  when  a  popular 
squatter,  whose  health  had  been  drunk,  declared 
with  post-prandial  fervour  that  he  regarded  all  the 
inhabitants  of  old  Port  Fairy  as  his  brothers. 
During  a  lull  in  the  cheering,  a  humorous  mercan- 
tile celebrity  placed  his  hand  on  Charles  Mills's 
shoulder,  and  cried  aloud,  "  This  is  my  brother 
Charley" — a  practical  application  which  brought 
down  the  house. 

Ah !    those    were    indeed    the    good    old    days. 


How  free  and  fresh  was  the  ocean's  breath  as  one 
looked  westward  over  the  limitless  Pacific,  where 
nothing  broke  the  line  of  vision  nearer  than  Lady 
Julia  Percy  Island!  How  green  was  the  turf! 
How  blue  the  sky  !  How  strong  and  unquestioning 
was  friendship  !  How  divine  was  love  "  in  that  lost 
land,  in  that  lost  clime  " — in  the  realm  of  poesy  and 
the  kingdom  of  youth  ! 

Port  Fairy  certainly  had  the  start  in  life,  and 
Belfast  was,  as  I  have  narrated,  a  townlet  before  an 
acre  of  land  was  sold  in  Warrnambool.  But  it 
turned  out  that  Warrnambool  was  situated  in  nearer 
vicinity  to  the  wonderfully  rich  lands  of  Farnham 
and  Purnim.  The  great  wheat  and  potato  yields 
began  to  affect  shipments,  and  at  this  day  I  rather 
fancy  nearly  all  the  mercantile  prosperity  has  taken 
lodgings  with  Warrnambool,  while  the  broad,  lime- 
stone-metalled streets  of  Belfast  are  less  lively  than 
they  were  wont  to  be  a  score  of  years  agone. 

To  the  Johnny  Griffiths  dynasty  succeeded  that 
of  Mr.  John  Cox,  the  younger,  of  Clarendon, 
Tasmania,  a  worthy  scion  of  a  family  which  had 
furnished,  perhaps,  more  pattern  country  gentlemen 
to  Australia  than  any  other.  He  had  quitted 
Tasmania  for  the  western  portion  of  the  new  colony, 
which  promised  wider  scope  for  energy  and  enter- 
prise. His  earlier  investments  were  a  trading 
station  at  Port  Fairy,  the  purchase  of  such  town 
allotments  and  buildings  as  seemed  to  him  likely 
bargains,  and  the  first  occupation  of  the  Mount 
Rouse  station,  long  afterwards  known  as  perhaps 
the  choicest,  richest  run  of  a  crack  district. 

Mr.    Cox,   however,  relinquished    his    not   wholly 


congenial  mercantile  task  to  the  late  Mr.  William 
Rutledge,  of  Farnham  Park,  whose  commercial 
talent  and  business  energy  soon  made  quite  another 
place  of  Belfast.  Mr.  Cox  from  that  time  forth 
devoted  himself  wholly  to  pastoral  pursuits,  and 
having  been  unhandsomely  evicted  from  Mount 
Rouse,  which  the  Governor,  without  much  practical 
wisdom,  wished  to  turn  into  an  aboriginal  reserva- 
tion, he  retired  to  Mount  Napier,  a  run  only  second 
in  extent  and  quality. 

I  may  mention  that  some  years  after,  the 
Government,  finding  that  the  aboriginal  protectorate 
system  merely  served  to  localise  gangs  of  lazy  and 
mischievous  savages  without  any  sort  of  benefit  to 
themselves  or  others,  revoked  the  reserve.  But 
instead  of  handing  back  the  land  to  those  from 
whom  it  had  been  taken  unjustly,  they  had  the 
meanness  to  let  it  by  tender.  This  run  of  Mount 
Rouse  brought  a  rental  of  £900  per  annum,  a  price 
altogether  unprecedented  in  the  history  of  pastoral 

After  I  had  been  a  dweller  on  the  banks  of  the 
Merai  for  a  few  months,  I  resolved  to  move  farther 
westward,  where  there  was  country  to  spare  and  a 
more  favourable  opportunity  of  getting  an  extensive 
run  than  in  my  present  picturesque  but  restricted 
locality.  I  was  grieved  to  lose  my  pretty  and 
pleasant  home  just  as  I  had  begun  to  get  attached 
to  it,  but  I  judged  rightly  that  to  the  westward  lay 
the  more  profitable  pastures,  and  I  adhered  to  my 

A  few  days'  muster  saw  us  once  more  on  the 
road.      Our  herd  was  increased  and  complicated  by 

32  OLD  MELBOURNE  MEMORIES       chap,  ill 

the  presence  of  many  small  calves,  of  ages  varying 
from  a  week  to  three  months.  These  tender 
travellers  would  have  much  retarded  our  march 
under  other  circumstances.  But  we  had  not,  as 
luck  would  have  it,  much  more  than  fifty  miles  to 
move,  and  for  that  short  distance  we  could  afford 
to  travel  easily,  and  give  time  to  the  weaker  ones. 
All  our  worldly  goods  were  packed  upon  the  dray, 
which,  as  before,  sufficed  to  carry  them. 



By  this  time  the  winter  rains  had  commenced  to 
fall.  The  wild  weather  of  the  western  coast,  with 
fierce  gales  from  the  south-east,  and  driving  storms 
of  sleet,  showed  clearly  that  "  the  year  had  turned." 
The  roads  were  knee-deep  in  mud,  the  creeks  full, 
the  nights  long  and  cold.  However,  grass  was 
plentiful,  and 

Little  cared  we  for  wind  or  weather, 
When  Youth  and  I  lived  "  there  "  together. 

So  away.  Vogue  la  galcre.  The  dray,  with  Joe 
Burge  and  his  wife,  and  Chase,  the  deerhound,  went 
on  ahead,  while  I,  with  Mr.  Cunningham,  a  new 
companion,  who  had  dwelt  in  those  parts  before  my 
arrival,  was  to  follow  a  day  or  two  later  with  the 

I  had  made  a  small  exploring  expedition  a  short 
time  before  in  company  with  an  old  stockman  ;  he, 
for  a  consideration,  had  guided  me  to  a  tract  of 
unoccupied  country.  And  to  this  new  territory  our 
migration  was  now  tending.  This  experienced 
stock-rider — "an   old   hand   from    the    Sydney  side," 



as  such  men  were  then  called  in  Victoria — was  a 
great  character,  and  a  most  original  personage.  He 
accompanied  the  dray,  so  that  all  might  be  in 
readiness  for  our  arrival.  Not  that  much  could  be 
done.  But  my  all-accomplished  chief  servitor,  the 
most  inventive  and  energetic  pioneer  possible,  would 
be  sure  to  make  some  "  improvements  "  even  in  the 
short  interval  before  we  arrived. 

Our  first  day's  journey  was  most  difficult.  The 
cattle  were  loath  to  leave  the  spot  to  which  they  had 
become  accustomed,  and  were  troublesome  to  drive. 
However,  with  two  good  stock-whips,  and  the  aid 
of  Dora  the  cattle-dog,  we  got  along,  and  reached 
Rosebrook,  on  the  Moyne,  close  to  Belfast.  Mr. 
Roderick  Urquhart,  as  manager  for  Mr.  James 
Atkinson,  was  then  in  charge.  He  received  us 
most  hospitably.  The  cattle  were  put  into  the 
stock-yard  for  the  night.  My  companion  rode  on 
to  town,  intending  to  rejoin  me  early  in  the  morning. 

One  may  judge  of  the  difficulty  in  "  locating " 
tenants  upon  agricultural  land  in  those  early  days 
from  the  fact  that  Mr.  Urquhart  was  then  supplying 
the  first  farmers  on  the  Belfast  survey  with  rations. 
For  the  first  year  or  two  this  plan  was  pursued  ; 
after  that  they  were  able,  doubtless,  to  keep  them- 
selves and  pay  the  moderate  rent  under  which  they 
sat.  Not  that  the  Port  Fairy  "  survey  "  was  so  fertile 
as  that  of  Farnham  Park — much  of  it  was  wet  and 
undrained,  much  stony,  and  but  fit  for  pasture  ;  but 
it  comprehended  the  greater  part  of  the  town  of 
Belfast,  and  ,£5000  would  not  be  considered  dear 
now  for  5000  acres,  chiefly  of  first-class  pasture 
land,  comprising,  besides  a  seaport  town,  an  exhaust- 

iv  DUNMORE  35 

less  quarry  of  limestone,  a  partially  navigable  river, 
and  a  harbour. 

I  slept  ill  that  night,  oppressed  by  my  responsi- 
bilities. At  midnight  I  heard  the  continuous  lowing, 
or  "  roaring "  in  stock-riders'  vernacular,  which  de- 
noted the  escape  of  my  cattle  from  the  yard. 
Dressing  hastily,  I  stumbled  in  pitch  darkness 
through  the  knee -deep  mud.  It  was  even  as  I 
feared — the  rails  were  down,  trampled  in  the  mud  ; 
the  cattle  were  out  and  away.  My  anxiety  was 
great.  The  paddock  was  insecure.  If  they  got 
out  of  it  there  was  endless  re-mustering,  delay,  and 
perhaps  loss. 

I  could  do  nothing  on  foot.  I  heard  the  uneasy 
brutes  trampling  and  bellowing  in  all  directions.  I 
went  to  bed  sad  at  heart,  and,  like  St.  Paul's  crew 
at  Malta,  "  wished  for  the  dawn." 

With  the  earliest  streak  of  light  I  caught  my 
horse,  and  galloped  round  the  paddock  without  a 
sight  of  the  missing  animals.  In  despair  I  turned 
towards  the  shore  of  the  large  salt-water  lagoon 
which  made  one  side  of  the  enclosure.  In  the  grey 
light  I  fancied  I  saw  a  dark  mass  at  the  end  of  a 
cape,  which  stretched  far  into  it.  I  rode  for  it  at 
full  speed,  and  discovered  my  lost  "  stock-in-trade " 
all  lying  down  in  the  long  marshy  grass.  They 
had  struck  out  straight  for  their  last  known  place  of 
abode,  but  had  been  blocked  by  the  deep  water  and 
the  unknown  sea — as  doubtless  the  lagoon  appeared 
to  them  in  the  darkness. 

Shortly  after  breakfast  we  resumed  our  journey, 
and  made  St.  Kitts,  a  cattle  station  some  ten  or 
twelve  miles  on  the  western  side  of  Belfast.      The 


Messrs.  Aplin  were  there,  having  taken  it  up  a  year 
before.  The  stock-yard  was  more  substantial,  as 
became  a  cattle  station.  Our  hosts  were  cultured 
and  refined  people,  not  long  from  England  ;  like 
myself,  enthusiastic  about  pastoral  pleasures  and 
profits.  All  our  work  lay  ahead.  How  bright  was 
the  outlook  !  how  dim  and  distant  the  shoals  and 
quicksands  of  life's  sea !  We  sat  long  into  the 
night,  talking  a  good  deal  of  shop,  not  wholly 
unmingled  with  higher  topics.  I  remember  we 
decided  that  cattle  stations  were  to  improve  in 
value,  and  ultimately  lead  to  a  competence.  How 
little  could  we  foresee  that  the  elder  brother  was  to 
die  as  resident  magistrate  at  Somerset — an  unborn 
town  in  an  unknown  colony — and  the  younger, 
after  nearly  thirty  years'  unsuccessful  gold-mining, 
from  Suttor's  Mill  to  Hokitiki,  was  to  make  a 
fortune  in  tin  at  Stanthorpe  !  That  the  writer — 
bah  !  "  Fate's  dark  web  unfolded,  lying,"  did  not 
keep  him  from  the  soundest  sleep  that  night  ;  and 
we  again  made  a  successful  morning  start. 

The  start  was  good,  but  the  day  was  discouraging. 
The  cattle  were  safe  enough  in  the  new  yard,  though 
rather  bedraggled  after  twelve  hours  of  mud  up  to 
their  knees.  However,  there  was  water  enough 
where  they  were  going  to  wash  them  up  to  the 
horns,  and  the  grass  was  magnificent.  The  rain 
came  down  in  a  way  that  was  oppressive  to  our 
spirits.  The  sky  was  murky ;  the  air  chilling. 
Our  whips  soon  became  sodden  and  ineffective. 
My  companion  had  a  bad  cold,  which  deprived  him 
of  all  of  his  voice  and  most  of  his  temper.  The  dog 
Dora  would  hardly  bark.      Worse  than  all,  the  track 

iv  DUNMORE  37 

was  difficult  to  find.  We  drove  hard  for  hours, 
doubting  much  whether  we  had  not  lost  our  way. 
My  comrade  was  sure  of  it.      And 

It  was  about  the  filthy  close 
Of  a  most  disgusting  day, 

as  a  somewhat  irreverent  poetaster  hath  it,  when  we 
disputed  in  the  gathering  gloom  as  to  whether  or 
not  we  were  miles  distant  from  Dunmore — our  port 
of  refuge — or  had  really  hit  off  the  right  track. 
My  friend,  in  hoarse  boding  tones,  commenced  to 
speculate  as  to  how  we  should  pass  the  night  under 
a  steady  rainfall,  and  how  many  miles  off,  in  different 
directions,  the  cattle  would  be  by  morning.  My 
answer  was  simple  but  effective — "  There's  the  horse- 
paddock  ! "  It  was  even  so.  Straining  my  eyes,  I 
had  caught  sight  through  the  timber  of  a  two-railed 
sapling  fence.  It  was  enough.  Paddocks  were  not 
then  five  miles  square,  and  as  likely  to  be  twenty 
miles  from  the  homestead  as  one.  Dear  labour  and 
limited  credit  militated  against  reckless  outlay  in 
posts  and  rails.  A  ioo-acre  enclosure  for  horses 
and  working  bullocks  was  all  that  was  then  deemed 
necessary.  To  see  the  paddock  was  to  see  the 

A  considerable  "  revulsion  of  feeling  "  took  place 
with  both  of  us  as  we  slogged  the  tired  cattle  round 
the  fence  and  came  in  view  of  the  old  Dunmore 
homestead,  then  considered  one  of  the  best  improved 
in  the  district.  To  be  sure,  it  would  not  make  much 
show  now  beside  Burrabogie  or  Groongal,  let  alone 
Ercildoune  or  Trawalla,  and  a  few  others  in  the 
west.     But  then  some  of  the  shepherd  kings  thought 


it  no  dishonour  to  sleep  in  a  watch-box  for  a  month 
at  a  time,  and  a  slab  gunyah  with  a  fold  of  hurdles 
was  held  to  be  sufficient  improvement  for  a  medium 
sheep  station.  At  Dunmore  there  were  three  sub- 
stantial slab  huts  with  huge  stone  chimneys,  a  pisi- 
work  dairy,  a  loose-box  for  Traveller,  the  son  of 
Camerton,  as  well  as  a  large  milking-yard  and  cow- 
shed. A  great  dam  across  the  River  Shaw  provided 
an  ornamental  sheet  of  water. 

The  season  was,  as  I  have  stated,  verging  on 
midwinter.  The  day  was  wet.  The  drove  of 
milkers  passing  and  repassing  had  converted  the 
ground  outside  of  the  huts,  which  were  protected  by 
the  paddock  fence,  into  a  sea  of  mud,  depth  from 
one  foot  to  two  feet.  Through  this  we  approached 
the  yard.  If  I  live  to  be  a  hundred  I  shall  never 
forget  the  sight  which  now  met  my  astonished  eyes. 
A  gentleman  emerged  from  the  principal  building  in 
conspicuously  clean  raiment,  having  apparently  just 
arrayed  himself  for  the  evening  meal.  He  proceeded 
calmly  to  wade  through  the  mud-ocean  until  he 
reached  the  yard,  where  he  took  down  the  clay- 
beplastered  rails,  leaving  the  gate  open  for  our  cattle. 
I  declare  I  nearly  fainted  with  grateful  emotion  at 
this  combination  of  self-sacrifice  with  the  loftiest 
ideal  of  hospitality.  We  had  never  met  before 
either  ;  but  long  years  of  after-friendship  with  James 
Irvine  only  enabled  me  to  perceive  that  it  was  the 
natural  outcome  of  a  generous  nature  and  a  heart 
loyal  to  every  impulse  of  gentle  blood. 

Another  night's  mud  for  the  poor  cattle.  But  I 
reflected  that  the  next  day  would  see  them  enfran- 
chised, and  on  their  ,pwn  "  run."     So,  dismissing  the 

iv  DUN  MO  RE  39 

subject  from  my  mind,  I  followed  my  chivalrous  host 
to  the  guests'  hut — a  snug,  separate  building,  where 
we  made  our  simple  toilettes  with  great  comfort  and 
satisfaction.  After  some  cautious  walking  on  a 
raised  pathway  we  gained  the  "  house,"  where  I  was 
introduced  to  Messrs.  Campbell  and  Macknight — for 
the  firm  was  a  triumvirate. 

Dwelling  in  a  drought-afflicted  district  across  the 
border,  where  for  months  the  milk  question  had 
been  in  abeyance,  or  feebly  propped  up  by  the 
imported  Swiss  product,  and  where  butter  is  not, 
how  it  refreshes  one  to  recall  the  great  jug  of  cream 
which  graced  that  comfortable  board,  the  pats  of 
fresh  butter,  the  alluring  short-cake,  the  baronial 
sirloin.  How  we  feasted  first.  How  we  talked 
round  the  glowing  log-piled  fire  afterwards.  How 
we  slept  under  piles  of  blankets  till  sunrise. 

Mrs.  Teviot,  the  housekeeper,  peerless  old  Scottish 
dame  that  she  was  (has  not  Henry  Kingsley  im- 
mortalised her  ?)  ;  for  how  many  a  year  did  she 
provide  for  the  comforts  of  host  and  guest  unap- 
proachably, unimpeachably.  How  indelibly  is  that 
evening  imprinted  on  my  memory.  Marked  with  a 
white  stone  in  life's  not  all-cheerful  record.  On 
that  evening  was  commenced  a  friendship  that  only 
closed  with  life,  and  which  knew  for  the  whole  of  its 
duration  neither  cloud  nor  misgiving.  If  a  man's 
future  is  ever  determined  by  the  character  of  his 
associates  and  surroundings  at  a  critical  period  of 
life,  my  vicinity  to  Dunmore  must  have  powerfully 
influenced  mine.  In  close,  almost  daily,  association 
with  men  of  high  principle,  great  energy,  early 
culture,  and  refined  habits,  I   could  not  fail  to  gain 

40  OLD  MELBOURNE  MEMORIES        chap,  iv 

signal    benefit,  to    imbibe    elevated    ideas,  to    share 
broad  and  ennobling  ideas  of  colonisation. 

As  soon  as  we  could  see  next  morning  the  cattle 
were  let  out  and  "  tailed  "  on  the  thick,  rich  pastur- 
age, which  surrounded  every  homestead  in  those 
good  old  days.  After  breakfast  I  set  out  to  find 
my  station  ;  that  is,  the  exact  spot  where  it  had 
pleased  my  retainers  to  camp.  I  found  them  about 
seven  miles  westward  of  Dunmore,  on  a  cape  of 
lightly -timbered  land  which  ran  into  the  great 
Eumeralla  marsh  ;  a  corresponding  point  of  the  lava 
country,  popularly  known  as  The  Rocks,  jutted  out 
to  meet  it.  On  this  was  a  circular  pond -like 
depression,  where  old  Tom,  my  venerable  guide  and 
explorer,  had  in  a  time  of  drought  once  seen  a  dingo 
drinking.  He  had  christened  it  the  Native  Dog 
Hole — a  name  which  it  bears  to  this  day.  And  at 
the  Doghole-point  had  my  man  Joe  Burge  com- 
menced to  fell  timber  for  a  brush-yard,  put  up  the 
walls  of  a  sod  hut,  unpacked  such  articles  as  would 
not  suffer  from  weather,  and  generally  commenced 
the  first  act  of  homestead  occupation.  I  was  greeted 
with  enthusiasm.  And  as  Old  Tom  the  stock-rider 
was  at  once  despatched  to  Dunmore  to  bring  over 
the  cattle,  with  Mr.  Cunningham,  my  friend  and 
travelling  companion,  I  hobbled  out  my  charger  and 
proceeded  to  inspect  my  newly-acquired  territory. 



Pride  and  successful  ambition  swelled  my  breast 
on  that  first  morning  as  I  looked  round  on  my  run. 
My  run  !  my  own  station  !  How  fine  a  sound  it 
had,  and  how  fine  a  thing  it  was  that  I  should  have 
the  sole  occupancy — almost  ownership — of  about 
50,000  acres  of  "  wood  and  wold,"  mere  and  marsh- 
land, hill  and  dale.  It  was  all  my  own — after  a 
fashion — that  is,  I  had  but  to  receive  my  squatting 
license,  under  the  hand  of  the  Governor  of  the 
Australias,  for  which  I  paid  ten  pounds,  and  no 
white  man  could  in  any  way  disturb,  harass,  or 
dispossess  me.  I  have  that  first  license  yet,  signed 
by  Sir  Charles  Fitzroy,  the  Governor-General.  It 
was  a  valuable  document  in  good  earnest,  and  many 
latter-day  pastoralists  with  a  "  Thursday  to  Thurs- 
day "  tenure  would  be  truly  glad  to  have  such 
another.  There  were  no  free-selectors  in  those  days. 
No  one  could  buy  land  except  at  auction  when  once 
the  special  surveys  had  been  abrogated.  There 
were  no  travelling  reserves,  or  water  reserves,  or 
gold-fields,  or  mineral  licenses,  or  miners'  rights,  or 


any  of  the  new-fangled  contrivances  for  letting  the 
same  land  to  half  a  dozen  people  at  one  and  the 
same  time. 

There  was  nothing  which  some  people  would  con- 
sider to  be  romantic  or  picturesque  in  the  scenery  on 
which  I  gazed.  But  the  "  light  which  never  was 
on  sea  or  shore"  was  there,  to  shed  a  celestial  glory 
over  the  untilled,  unfenced,  half- unknown  waste. 
Westward  stretched  the  great  marshes,  through  which 
the  Eumeralla  flowed,  if,  indeed,  that  partially  sub- 
terranean stream  could  be  said  to  run  or  flow  any- 
where. Northward  lay  the  lava -bestrewn  country 
known  as  the  Mount  Eeles  rocks,  a  mass  of  cooled 
and  cracked  lava  now  matted  with  a  high  thick 
sward  of  kangaroo  grass,  but  so  rough  and  sharp 
were  the  piles  and  plateaux  of  scoria  that  it  was 
dangerous  to  ride  a  horse  over  it.  For  years  after 
we  preferred  to  work  it  on  foot  with  the  aid  of  dogs. 

On  the  south  lay  open  slopes  and  low  hills,  with 
flats  between.  On  these  last  grew  the  beautiful 
umbrageous  blackwood,  or  native  hickory,  one  of  the 
handsomest  trees  in  Australia.  At  the  back  were 
again  large  marshes,  with  heathy  flats  and  more 
thickly-timbered  forests.  Over  all  was  a  wonderful 
sward  of  grass,  luxuriant  and  green  at  the  time  I 
speak  of,  and  quite  sufficient,  as  I  thought,  for  the 
sustenance  of  two  or  three  thousand  head  of  mixed 

There  were  no  great  elevations  to  be  seen.  It 
was  one  of  the  "low  countries"  in  a  literal  sense. 
The  only  hill  in  view  was  that  of  Mount  Eeles,  which 
we  could  see  rising  amid  the  lava  levels  a  few  miles 
to  the  north-west.      The  marshes  were  for  the  most 


part  free  from  timber.  But  a  curious  formation  of 
"  islands,"  as  the  stock-rider  called  them,  prevailed, 
which  tended  much  to  the  variety  and  beauty  of  the 

These  were  isolated  areas,  of  from  ten  to  one 
hundred  acres,  raised  slightly  above  the  ordinary 
winter  level  of  the  marshes.  The  soil  on  these 
"  islands "  was  exceptionally  good,  and,  from  the 
fact  of  their  being  timbered  like  the  ordinary  main- 
land, they  afforded  an  effective  contrast  to  the  miles 
of  water  or  waving  reeds  of  which  the  marshes  con- 
sisted. They  served  admirably  also  for  cattle  camps. 
To  them  the  cattle  always  retired  at  noonday  in 
summer,  and  at  night  in  winter  and  spring-time. 
One  "  island,"  not  very  far  from  our  settlement,  was 
known  as  "  Kennedy's  island,"  the  gallant  ill-fated 
explorer  who  had  surveyed  a  road  to  the  town  of 
Portland  some  years  before  my  arrival  having  made 
his  camp  there.  How  far  he  was  to  wander  from 
the  pleasant  green  west  country,  only  to  die  by  the 
spear  of  a  crouching  savage,  within  sight  of  the  ship 
that  had  been  sent  to  bring  him  safely  home  after 
his  weary  desert  trail  ! 

We  didn't  know  anything  of  the  nature  of  dry 
country  in  those  days.  All  the  land  I  looked  upon 
was  deep-swarded,  thickly-verdured  as  an  English 
meadow.  Wild  duck  swam  about  in  the  pools  and 
meres  of  the  wide  misty  fen,  with  its  brakes  of  tall 
reeds  and  "  marish-marigolds  " — "  the  sword-grass  and 
the  oat-grass  and  the  bulrush  by  the  pool."  Over- 
head long  strings  of  wild  swan  clanged  and  swayed. 
There  were  wild  beasts  (kangaroo  and  dingoes), 
Indians   (blacks,   whose    fires   in  "  The    Rocks "   we 


could  see),  a  pathless  waste,  and  absolute  freedom  and 
independence.  These  last  were  the  most  precious 
possessions  of  all.  No  engagements,  no  office  work, 
no  fixed  hours,  no  sums  or  lessons  of  any  kind  or 
sort.  I  felt  as  if  this  splendid  Robinson  Crusoe  kind 
of  life  was  too  good  to  be  true.  Who  was  I  that  I 
should  have  had  this  grand  inheritance  of  happiness 
immeasurable  made  over  to  me  ?  What  a  splendid 
world  it  was,  to  be  sure !  Why  did  people  ever 
repine  or  complain  ?  I  should  have  made  short 
work  of  Mr.  Mallock,  and  have  settled  the  argument 
"  Is  life  worth  living  ? "  had  it  then  arisen  between 
us,  with  more  haste  than  logic.  Action,  however, 
must  in  colonisation  never  fail  to  accompany  con- 
templation. To  which  end  I  returned  to  our  camp, 
just  in  time  to  partake  of  the  simple,  but  appetising, 
meal  which  Mrs.  Burge  had  prepared  for  us. 

Cold  corned  beef,  hot  tea,  and  a  famous  fresh 
damper,  the  crust  of  which  I  still  hold  to  be  better 
than  any  other  species  of  bread  whatever,  when 
accompanied,  as  in  the  case  referred  to,  with  good, 
sweet,  fresh  butter.  How  splendid  one's  appetite 
was  after  hours  spent  in  the  fresh  morning  air.  How 
complete  the  satisfaction  when  it  all  came  to  an  end. 

Then  commenced  a  council  of  war,  in  which  Joe 
Burge  was  a  leading  spokesman.  "  Old  Tom  can 
look  after  the  cattle.  Mr.  Cunningham  and  I  will 
go  and  fell  a  tree.  I  know  one  handy  that'll  run 
out  nigh  on  a  hundred  slabs,  and  if  you'll  bring  up 
the  bullocks  and  dray  to  the  stump,  sir,  to-night, 
we'll  have  a  load  of  slabs  ready  to  take  home." 

What  was  the  next  thing  that  was  necessary  to 
be  done? 


To  build  a  house. 

At  present  we  were  living  under  a  dray.  Now, 
a  dray  is  not  so  bad  a  covering  at  night,  when 
extremely  sleepy  and  tired,  but  in  daylight  it  is 
valueless.  And  if  it  rains — and  in  the  west  it  often 
did,  and  I  am  informed  does  still,  though  not  so 
hard  as  it  did  then — the  want  of  a  permanent  shelter 
makes  itself  felt. 

The  walls  of  a  sod  hut  were  indeed  already  up. 
Clean-cut  black  cubes,  rather  larger  than  bricks,  when 
new  and  moist,  make  a  neat,  solid  wall.  In  little 
more  than  a  day  we  had  a  thatched  roof  completed, 
so  that  we  were  able  to  have  our  evening  meal  in 
comfort,  and  even  luxury.  A  couple  of  fixed  bed- 
steads were  placed  at  opposite  corners,  in  which  Mr. 
Cunningham  and  I  arranged  our  bedding.  Joe 
Burge  and  his  wife  still  slept  under  the  "  body "  of 
the  dray,  while  Old  Tom  had  a  separate  section 
allotted  to  him  under  the  pole. 

But  the  "  hut,"  of  split  slabs,  with  wall-plate  top 
and  bottom,  and  all  the  refinements  of  bush  car- 
pentry, was  to  be  the  real  mansion.  And  at  this 
we  soon  made  a  commencement.  I  say  we,  because 
I  drove  the  bullocks  and  carted  the  slabs  to  the  site 
we  had  pitched  on,  besides  doing  a  bit  of  squaring 
and  adzing  now  and  then. 

Joe  Burge  and  Mr.  Cunningham  (who  was  an 
experienced  bushman,  and  half  a  dozen  other  things 
to  boot)  soon  "  ran  out "  slabs  enough,  and  fitted  the 
round  stuff,  most  of  which  I  carted  in,  preferring  that 
section  of  industry  to  the  all-day,  every-day  work  of 
splitting.  Old  Tom  looked  after  the  cattle.  They 
needed  all  his  attention  for  a  while,  displaying,  as 


they  did,  a  strong  desire  to  march  incontinently  back 
to  the  banks  of  the  Merai. 

In  two  or  three  weeks  the  hut  was  up.  How  I 
admired  it !  The  door,  the  table,  the  bedsteads,  the 
chairs  (three-legged  stools),  the  washstand,  were  all 
manufactured  by  Joe  Burge  out  of  the  all-sufficing 
"  slab  "  of  the  period.  A  wooden  chimney  with  an 
inner  coating  of  stone-work  worked  well  without 
smoking.  The  roof  was  neatly  thatched  with  the 
tall,  strong  tussock-grass,  then  so  abundant. 

Our  dwelling  transcended  that  of  the  lowland 
Scot,  who  described  his  as  "  a  lairge  hoose  wi'  twa 
rooms  intil't,"  inasmuch  as  it  boasted  of  three.  One 
was  the  atrium — being  also  used  as  a  refectory — and 
chief  general  apartment.  The  rest  of  the  building 
was  bisected  by  a  wooden  partition,  affording  thus 
two  bedrooms.  One  of  these  was  devoted  to  Joe 
Burge  and  family,  the  other  I  appropriated.  Mr. 
Cunningham  and  Old  Tom  slept  in  the  large  room, 
where — firewood  being  plentiful — they  kept  up  a 
roaring  fire,  and  had  rather  the  best  of  it  in  the  cold 
nights  which  then  commenced  to  visit  us. 

Excepting  a  stock-yard,  there  now  remained  next 
to  nothing  to  do,  and  being  rather  overmanned  for 
so  small  a  station,  Mr.  Cunningham,  with  my  free 
consent,  elected  to  take  service  with  the  Dunmore 
firm,  with  whom  he  remained  for  some  years  after. 
I  had  now  attained  the  acme  of  worldly  felicity.  I 
had  always  longed  to  have  a  station  of  my  own. 
Now  I  had  one.  I  had  daily  work  of  the  kind  that 
exactly  suited  me.  I  went  over  to  Dunmore  and 
spent  a  pleasant  evening  every  now  and  then,  rubbing 
up  my  classics  and  having  a   little  "  good   talk."      I 


had  a  few  books  which  I  had  brought  up  with  me  in 
the  dray — Byron,  Scott,  Shakespeare  (there  was  no 
Macaulay  in  those  days),  with  half  a  score  of  other 
authors,  in  whom  there  was  pabulum  mentis  for  a 
year  or  two.  I  had,  besides,  the  run  of  the  Dunmore 
library — no  mean  collection. 

So  I  had  work,  recreation,  companionship,  and 
intellectual  occupation  provided  for  me  in  abundant 
and  wholesome  proportion.  What  else  could  cast  a 
shadow  over  my  prosperous  present  and  promising 
future  ?  Well,  there  was  one  factor  in  the  sum 
which  I  had  not  reckoned  with.  "  The  Amalekite 
was  then  in  the  land,"  and  with  the  untamed,  un- 
tutored pre-Adamite  it  appeared  that  I  was  fated  to 
have  trouble. 

The  aboriginal  blacks  on  and  near  the  western 
coast  of  Victoria — near  Belfast,  Warrnambool,  and 
Portland — had  always  been  noted  as  a  breed  of 
savages  by  no  means  to  be  despised.  They  had 
been  for  untold  generations  accustomed  to  a  dietary 
scale  of  exceptional  liberality.  The  climate  was 
temperate  ;  the  forests  abounded  in  game ;  wild- 
fowl at  certain  seasons  were  plentiful  ;  while  the  sea 
supplied  them  with  fish  of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  from  a 
whale  (stranded)  to  a  whitebait.  No  wonder  that 
they  were  a  fine  race,  physically  and  otherwise — the 
men  tall  and  muscular,  the  women  well-shaped  and 
fairly  good-looking.  To  some  even  higher  commend- 
ation might  with  truth  be  applied. 

One  is  often  tempted  to  smile  at  hearing  some 
under-sized  Anglo-Saxon,  with  no  brain  power  to 
spare,  assert  gravely  the  blacks  of  Australia  were  the 
lowest  race  of  savages  known  to  exist,  the  connect- 


inc  link  between   man   and  the  brute  creation,  etc. 


On  the  contrary,  many  of  the  leading  members  of 
tribes  known  to  the  pioneer  squatters  were  grandly- 
formed  specimens  of  humanity,  dignified  in  manner, 
and  possessing  an  intelligence  by  no  means  to  be 
despised,  comprehending  a  quick  sense  of  humour,  as 
well  as  a  keenness  of  perception,  not  always  found 
in  the  superior  race. 

Unfortunately,  before  I  arrived  and  took  up  my 
abode  on  the  border  of  the  great  Eumeralla  mere, 
there  had  been  divers  quarrels  between  the  old  race 
and  the  new.  Whether  the  stockmen  and  shepherds 
were  to  blame — as  is  always  said — or  whether  it 
was  simply  the  ordinary  savage  desire  for  the  tempt- 
ing eoods  and  chattels  of  the  white  man,  cannot  be 
accurately  stated.  Anyhow,  cattle  and  sheep  had 
been  lifted  and  speared  ;  blacks  had  been  shot,  as  a 
matter  of  course  ;  then,  equally  so,  hut-keepers, 
shepherds,  and  stockmen  had  been  done  to  death. 

Just  about  that  time  there  was  a  scare  as  to  the 
disappearance  of  a  New  South  Wales  semi-civilised 
aboriginal  named  Bradbury.  He  was  a  daring 
fellow,  a  bold  rider,  and  a  good  shot.  As  he  occasion- 
ally stayed  at  the  native  camp,  and  had  now  not 
been  seen  for  a  month,  it  began  to  be  rumoured  that 
he  had  agreed  to  accept  the  leadership  of  the 
outlawed  tribes  against  the  whites.  In  such  a  case 
the  prospects  of  the  winter,  with  thinly -manned 
homesteads  eight  or  ten  miles  apart,  looked  de- 
cidedly bad. 

However,  the  discovery  of  poor  Bradbury's  bones 
a  short  time  afterwards  set  that  matter  at  rest.  He 
always  took  his  gun  with  him,  distrusting — and  with 


good  reason — his  trans-Murray  kin.  On  this  occasion 
they  "  laid  for  him,"  it  seems,  and  by  means  of  a  sable 
Delilah,  who  playfully  ran  off  with  his  double-barrel, 
took  him  at  a  disadvantage.  He  fought  desperately, 
we  were  told,  even  with  a  spear  through  his  body,  but 
was  finally  overpowered.  Just  before  they  had  killed 
and  chopped  up  a  hut-keeper,  and  at  Mount  Rouse 
they  had  surprised  and  killed  one  of  Mr.  Cox's  men, 
the  overseer — Mr.  Brock — only  saving  himself  by 
superior  speed  of  foot,  for  which  he  was  noted. 

I  was  recommended  by  my  good  friends  of  Dun- 
more  and  others  of  experience  to  keep  the  blacks 
at  a  distance,  and  not  to  give  them  permission  to 
come  about  the  station. 

Being  young  and  foolish — or,  let  me  say,  un- 
suspicious— I  chose  to  disregard  this  warning  and  to 
take  my  own  way.  I  thought  the  poor  fellows  had 
been  hardly  treated.  It  was  their  country,  after  all. 
A  policy  of  conciliation  would  doubtless  show  them 
that  some  of  the  white  men  had  their  good  at  heart. 

To  the  westward  of  our  camp  lay  the  great  tract 
of  lava  country  before  mentioned.  This  had  been 
doubtless  an  outflow  in  old  central-fire  days  from 
the  crater  of  Mount  Eeles.  Now,  cooled,  hardened, 
cracked,  and  decomposed,  it  annually  produced  a  rich 
crop  of  grass.  It  was  full  of  ravines,  boulders,  masses 
of  scoria,  and  had,  besides,  a  lakelet  in  the  centre. 
It  was  many  miles  across,  and  extended  from  Mount 
Eeles  nearly  to  the  sea. 

It  was  not  particularly  easy  to  walk  in.  And,  as 
for  riding,  one  day  generally  saw  the  end  of  the 
most  high-couraged,  sure-footed  horse.  As  a  natural 
covert  for  savages  it  could  not  be  surpassed. 


So  OLD  MELBOURNE  MEMORIES         chap,  v 

In  this  peculiar  region  our  "  Modocs  lay  hid." 
We  could  see  the  smoke  of  their  camp  fires  in  toler- 
able number,  but  had  no  means  of  seeing  or  having 
speech  of  them.  One  day,  however,  having  probably 
sent  out  a  scout  previously  who  had  made  careful 
examination  of  us  while  we  were  totally  unconscious 
of  any  such  supervision,  they  debouched  from  the 
rocks  and  came  up  to  camp.  They  sent  a  herald  in 
advance,  who  held  up  a  green  bough.  Then,  "  walk- 
ing delicately,"  they  came  up,  in  number  nearly  fifty. 
I  was  at  home,  as  it  happened,  as  also  was  the  old 
stockman.  How  well  I  remember  the  day  and  the 
scene  ! 

We  all  carried  guns  in  those  days,  as  might  the 
border  settlers  in  "  Injun  "  territory. 



We  had  been  informed  that  the  Eumeralla  people, 
when  that  station  was  first  taken  up  by  Mr.  Hunter 
for  Hughes  and  Hoskins,  of  Sydney,  always  took 
their  guns  into  the  milking-yard  with  them,  for  fear 
of  a  surprise.  The  story  went  that  one  day  a  sudden 
attack  "  was "  made.  While  the  main  body  was 
engaged,  a  wing  of  the  invading  force  made  a  flank 
movement,  and  bore  down  upon  the  apparently 
undefended  homestead.  There,  however,  they  were 
confronted  by  Mr.  William  Carmichael,  a  neighbour 
of  Falstaffian  proportions,  who  stood  in  the  doorway 
brandishing  a  rusty  cutlass  which  he  had  discovered. 
Whether  the  blacks  were  demoralised  by  the  appear- 
ance of  the  fattest  man  they  had  ever  seen,  or  awe- 
stricken  at  the  fierceness  of  his  bearing,  is  not  known, 
but  they  wheeled  and  fled  just  as  their  main  army 
had  concluded  to  fall  back  on  Mount  Eeles. 

Of  Messrs.  Gorrie  and  M'Gregor  (uncle  and 
nephew),  who  were  chief  among  the  Eumeralla 
pioneers,  having  come  down  with  the  original  herd 
of  ITH  cattle,  with  which  the  run  was  first  occupied, 


many  tales  are  told.  The  former,  a  stalwart,  iron- 
nerved,  elderly  Scot,  was  the  envied  possessor  of  a 
rifle  of  great  length  of  barrel  and  the  deadliest 
performance.  The  coolness  of  its  owner  under  fire 
(of  spears)  was  a  matter  of  legendary  lore. 

In  a  raid  upon  the  heathen,  shortly  after  an 
unprovoked  murder  on  their  part,  two  aboriginals 
bolted  out  of  their  cover  immediately  in  front  of  Mr. 
Gorrie.  Running  their  best,  and  leaping  from  side 
to  side  as  they  went,  the  nearer  one  made  frantic 
signs  to  the  effect  that  the  other  man  was  the  real 

"  Bide  a  wee,"  quoth  the  calm  veteran,  as  the 
barrel  of  the  old  rifle  settled  to  its  aim.  "  Bide  a 
wee,  laddie,  and  I'll  sort  ye  baith."  Which  the 
legend  goes  on  to  say  he  actually  did,  disposing  of 
the  appellant  at  sight,  and  knocking  over  the  other 
before  he  got  out  of  range  of  la  longue  carabine. 

One  day  Mr.  M'Gregor  was  returning  through 
disturbed  country.  While  discovering  "  Injun  sign  " 
to  be  tolerably  plain  and  recent,  his  horse  at  speed 
fell  under  him,  and  rolled  over,  a  tremendous  cropper. 
He  picked  himself  up,  and,  going  over  to  the  motion- 
less steed,  found  that  he  was  stone  dead — he  had 
broken  both  forelegs  and  his  neck.  A  moment's 
thought,  and  he  picked  up  the  saddle  and  bridle, 
and,  thus  loaded,  ran  the  seven  or  eight  miles  home 
at  a  pace  which  Dcerfoot  would  have  respected. 

Things  went  on  prosperously  for  some  months. 
"  The  hut,"  a  substantial  and  commodious  structure, 
arose  in  all  its  grandeur.  It  boasted  loopholes  on 
either  side  of  the  huge,  solid  chimney,  built  out  of 
the  cube-shaped  basaltic  blocks  which  lay  around  in 


profusion.  So  we  were  prepared  for  a  siege.  A 
stock-yard  was  the  next  necessity  ;  to  split  and  put 
up  this  important  adjunct,  without  which  we  had  no 
real  title  to  call  ourselves  a  cattle  station,  was  imper- 
ative. "  Four  rails  and  a  cap,"  as  the  description 
ran,  of  the  heavy  substantial  fence  then  thought 
necessary  for  the  business,  were  to  be  procured. 
The  white-gum  timber,  though  good  enough  in  a 
splitting  sense  for  slabs,  was  not  the  thing  for  stock- 
yard work.  So,  as  we  knew  by  report  from  the 
"  Eumeralla  people  "  that  there  was  a  tract  of  stringy- 
bark  forest  about  eight  miles  south  of  us  towards  the 
coast,  we  determined  to  get  our  timber  there.  The 
bushman  who  had  put  up  the  Eumeralla  huts — one 
Tinker  Woods,  an  expatriated  gipsy,  it  was  said, 
whom  therefore  I  regarded  with  great  interest — had 
marked  some  trees  which  would  serve  to  guide  us. 
Joe  Burge  thought  he  could  manage  the  rest. 

The  "round  stuff"  we  could  cut  close  about. 
But  the  heavy  rails,  nine  feet  in  length,  from  three  to 
five  inches  thick,  and  as  straight  as  a  board  paling, 
we  had  to  get  from  the  forest.  As  Mr.  Cunningham 
had  gone,  and  the  old  stockman,  Tom,  had  quite 
enough  to  do  minding  the  cattle,  the  work  fell  on 
Joe  Burge  and  myself. 

This  is  how  it  was  managed.  At  daylight  we 
started  one  Monday  morning,  taking  the  dray  and 
team,  with  maul  and  wedges,  crosscut  saw  and  axes, 
bedding,  blankets,  and  a  week's  rations,  not  forgetting 
the  guns.  When  we  got  to  the  forest,  after  finding 
the  Tinker's  Tree  (it  bore  the  name  years  after) — an 
immense  stringy  bark,  with  a  section  of  the  outside 
wood    split  down   to  see  if  the  grain  was  free — we 


soon  pitched  upon  a  "  good  straight  barrel,"  and  set 
to  work.  Joe  cut  a  good-sized  "calf"  in  it  first,  and 
then  we  introduced  the  crosscut.  I  had  got  through 
a  reasonable  amount  of  manual  exercise,  and  had 
more  than  one  spell,  when  the  tall  tree  began  to 
sway,  and,  as  we  drew  back  to  the  right  side  of  the 
stump,  came  crashing  down,  flattening  all  the  lighter 
timber  in  its  way. 

"  Now,  sir,"  quoth  Joe,  "  you  give  me  a  hand  to 
crosscut  the  first  length.  There'll  be  two  more  after 
that.  Them  I'll  do  myself,  and  now  we'll  have  a 
pot  of  tea.  You  can  take  the  team  home,  and  come 
back  the  day  after  to-morrow.  I'll  have  a  load  of 
rails  ready  for  you." 

We  had  our  meal  in  great  comfort  and  contentment. 
Then  I  started  off  to  drive  the  team  back.  At  sunset 
I  saw  the  thatched  roof  of  our  hut.  I  had  walked 
sixteen  miles  there  and  back,  besides  helping  to  fell 
our  tree,  and  unyoking  the  team  afterwards. 

I  slept  soundly  that  night.  I  drove  the  team 
back  to  the  forest  on  the  day  named,  and  found  Joe 
perfectly  well  and  contented,  having  split  up  the 
whole  of  the  tree  into  fine,  straight,  substantial  rails, 
thirty  of  which  were  put  upon  the  dray.  After 
helping  to  cut  down  another  tree,  I  departed  on  my 
homeward  journey. 

On  Saturday  the  same  proceedings  took  place, 
and  da  capo  until  all  the  rails  were  split  and  drawn 
in.  Joe  must  have  felt  pretty  lonely  at  night, 
camped  in  a  bark  gunyah,  with  the  black  pillars  of 
the  stringy-bark  trees  around  him,  and  not  a  soul 
within  reach  or  ken.  But  he  was  not  ot  a  nervous 
temperament — by  wood  or  wold,  land  or  sea,  on  foot 


or  horseback,  hand-to-hand  fight,  sword  or  pistol,  it 
was  all  one  to  Joe.  He  was  afraid  of  nothing  and 
nobody.  And  when,  years  after,  his  son  returned 
from  India  with  the  Queen's  Commission  and  the 
Victoria  Cross,  I  knew  where  the  bold  blood  had 
come  from.  Towards  the  end  of  our  wood-ranging, 
a  rumour  got  abroad  that  the  blacks  had  "  broken 
out"  and  commenced  to  spear  cattle.  They  had, 
moreover,  "  intromitted  with  the  Queen's  lieges,"  as 
Dugald  Dalgetty  would  have  said.  Mr.  Cunningham, 
riding  through  the  greenwood  at  Dunmore,  had  had 
three  spears  thrown  at  him  by  blacks,  one  of  which 
went  through  his  hat.  They  then  (he  averred)  dis- 
appeared into  an  "  impenetrable  scrub."  Neighbours 
talked  of  arming  and  going  out  in  force  to  expostulate, 
if  this  kind  of  thing  was  to  go  on. 

I  told  Joe  of  this,  and  brought  a  message  from 
Mrs.  Burge  to  say  that  Old  Tom,  who  knew  the 
blacks  well,  was  getting  anxious,  that  he  must  not 
stay  away  any  longer,  but  had  better  come  home 
with  me. 

Joe  agreed  generally,  but  said  there  was  one 
lovely,  straight  tree  that  he  must  run  out,  and  if  I 
would  help  him  fell  this,  he  would  come  directly  it 
was  finished.  I  tried  to  persuade  him,  but  it  was 
useless.  So  we  "  threw  "  the  tree,  and  loaded  up.  I 
started  home  again  alone. 

Now  the  tree  was  a  large  tree  ;  the  load  heavier 
than  usual.  My  departure  was  late  in  consequence, 
and  the  moon  rose  before  I  had  half  finished  my 
homeward  journey.  To  add  to  my  trouble  I  got 
into  a  soft  spot  in  the  marsh  road,  and  in  the  alterca- 
tion one  of  my  leaders,  a  hot-tempered  animal,  slued 


round  and  "  turned  his  yoke."  Gentlemen  who  have 
driven  teams  will  understand  the  situation.  The 
bows  were  by  this  manoeuvre  placed  on  the  tops  of 
the  bullocks'  necks,  the  yoke  underneath,  and  the 
off-side  bullock  became  the  near-side  one.  I  was 
nearly  in  despair.  I  dared  not  unyoke  them,  because 
they,  being  fresh,  would  have  bolted  and  left  me 
helpless.  So  I  compromised,  and  started  the  team, 
finding  that  by  keeping  pretty  wide  of  my  leaders 
and  behaving  with  patience  they  would  keep  the 
track.  The  road  was  moderately  open,  and  they 
knew  they  were  going  home. 

At  one  part  of  the  road  I  had  to  pass  between 
two  walls  of  ti-tree,  a  tall  kind  of  scrub  through 
which  I  could  not  see,  and  which  looked  in  the 
moonlight  very  dark  and  eerie.  I  began  to  think 
about  the  blacks,  and  whether  or  no  they  might 
attack  us  in  force.  At  that  very  moment  I  heard 
a  wild  shrill  cry,  which  considerably  accelerated  the 
circulatory  system. 

I  sprang  to  the  gun,  which  lay  alongside  of  the 
rail,  just  within  the  side-board  of  the  dray.  "  I  will 
sell  my  life  dearly,"  I  said  to  myself;  "  but  oh  !  if  it 
must  be — shall  I  never  see  home  again  ? "  As  I 
pulled  back  the  hammer  another  cry,  hardly  so  shrill 
— much  more  melodious,  indeed, to  my  ears — sounded, 
and  a  flock  of  low-flying  dark  birds  passed  over  my 
head.  It  was  the  cry  of  the  wild  swan  !  I  was  not 
sorry  when  I  saw  the  hut  fire,  and  drew  up  with  my 
load  near  the  yard.  I  had  some  trouble  with  my 
leader,  the  off-side  bullock  not  caring  to  let  me 
approach  him,  as  is  the  manner  of  his  kind.  But  I 
got    over    the    difficulty,   and    dealt    out    retributive 

vi  THE  EUMERALLA    WAR  57 

justice  by  letting  him  and  his  mate  go  in  their  yoke, 
and  postponing  further  operations  to  daylight. 

Mrs.  Burge  was  most  anxious  about  her  husband, 
and  inveighed  against  his  foolishly  putting  his  life  in 
jeopardy  for  a  few  rails.  Old  Tom  laughed,  and 
said  as  long  as  Joe  had  a  good  gun  he  was  a  match 
for  all  the  blacks  in  the  country,  if  they  did  not  take 
him  by  surprise. 

"  We're  going  to  have  a  bit  of  trouble  with  these 
black  varment  now,"  he  said,  filling  his  pipe  in  a 
leisurely  way.  "  Once  they've  started  killing  cattle 
they  won't  leave  off  in  a  hurry.  More  by  token, 
they  might  take  a  fancy  to  tackle  the  hut  some  day 
when  we're  out." 

"  You  leave  me  a  gun,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Burge, 
"and  I'll  be  able  to  frighten  'em  a  bit  if  I'm  left 
by  myself.  But  sure,  I  hardly  think  they'd  touch 
me  after  all  the  flour  and  bits  of  things  I've  given 
the  lubras." 

"  They're  quare  people,"  said  the  old  stockman, 
meditatively  ;  "  there's  good  and  bad  among  'em, 
but  the  divil  resave  the  blackfellow  I'd  trust  nearer 
than  I  could  pull  the  trigger  on  him,  if  he  looked 

I  said  little,  being  vexed  that  my  policy  of  con- 
ciliation had  been  of  no  avail.  I  roused  myself, 
however,  out  of  a  reverie  on  the  curious  problem 
afforded  by  original  races  of  mankind,  foredoomed  to 
perish  at  the  approach  of  higher  law. 

"  They  have  not  touched  any  of  our  cattle  yet," 
I  said ;  "  that  shows  they  have  some  feeling  of 

"  I   wouldn't   say   that,"   answered   the   old    man, 


"  I  missed  a  magpie  steer  to-day,  and  I  didn't  see 
that  fat  yellow  cow  with  the  white  flank.  Thim's 
a  pair  that's  always  together,  and  I  seen  all  the 
leading  mob  barrin'  the  two." 

"We  must  have  a  hunt  for  them  to-morrow," 
I  said,  "  and  the  sooner  Joe  comes  in  the  better, 
Mrs.  Burge." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  that  resolute  matron,  casting 
a  glance  at  the  cradle  where  lay  a  plump  infant  not 
many  weeks  old  ;  "  and  is  there  any  other  man  in 
the  country  that  would  risk  his  life  for  a  load  of 
stock-yard  rails  ?  Not  but  it's  elegant  timber  ;  only 
he  might  think  of  me  and  the  baby." 

The  argument  was  a  good  one,  so  next  day  I 
went  out  and  forcibly  brought  away  Joe  and  a  final 
cargo  of  rails,  though  to  the  last  he  asserted  "  that 
we  were  spoiling  the  yard  for  the  sake  of  another 
week's  splitting." 

I  may  here  state  that  we  got  our  stock-yard  up 
in  due  time.  It  was  seven  feet  high,  and  close 
enough — a  rat  could  hardly  get  through.  My  share 
was  chiefly  the  mortising  of  the  huge  posts,  which 
afforded  considerable  scope  for  amateur  execution, 
by  reason  of  their  size  and  thickness.  If  the  yard 
is  still  standing — and  nothing  less  than  a  stampede 
of  elephants  would  suffice  to  level  it — I  could  pick 
out  several  of  "  my  posts "  with  unerring  accuracy. 
"  God  be  with  those  days,"  as  the  Irish  idiom  runs  ; 
they  were  happy  and  free.  I  should  like  to  be 
drafting  there  again — if  the  clock  could  be  put  back. 
But  life's  time-keeper  murmurs  sadly  with  rhythmic 
pendulum,  "  Never — for  ever  :  for  ever — never  !  " 
All  of  a  sudden  war  broke  out.      The  reasons  for 

vi  THE  EUMERALLA    WAR  59 

this  last  resource  of  nations  none  could  tell.  The 
whites  only  wished  to  be  let  alone.  They  did  not 
treat  the  black  brother  unkindly.  Far  from  it, 
There  were  other  philanthropists  in  the  district 
besides  myself,  notably  Mr.  James  Dawson,  of 
Kangatong,  then  known  as  Cox's  Heifer  Station, 
distant  about  twenty  miles  to  the  east.  Then,  as 
now,  my  old  friend  and  his  amiable  family  were 
most  anxious  to  ameliorate  his  condition.  They  fed 
and  clothed  the  lubras  and  children.  They  even 
were  sufficiently  interested  to  make  a  patient  study 
of  the  language,  and  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  tribal 
rites,  ceremonies,  and  customs,  which  has  lately  been 
embodied  in  a  valuable  volume,  praised  even  by  the 
super -critical  Saturday  Review.  It  is  a  fact,  not 
altogether  without  bearing  on  the  historical  analysis 
of  pioneer  squatting,  that  four  of  us — rude  colonists, 
as  most  English  writers  persist  in  believing  all 
Australian  settlers  to  be — were,  in  greater  or  less 
degree,  authors. 

Charles  Macknight  had  a  logically  clear  and 
trenchant  way  of  putting  things.  As  a  political 
and  social  essayist  he  attracted  much  attention 
during  the  latter  years  of  his  life.  His  theories 
of  stock-breeding,  culled  from  contemporary  journals, 
are  still  prized  and  acted  upon  by  experienced 
pastoralists.  Of  the  two  brothers  Aplin,  the  elder 
was  a  lover  of  scientific  research,  and,  having  a 
strong  natural  taste  for  geology,  addressed  himself 
to  it  with  such  perseverance  that  he  became  second 
only  to  Mr.  Selwyn,  the  late  Victorian  Government 
geologist,  a  man  of  European  reputation,  and  was 
himself  enabled    to   fill   the   position   of  Government 


geologist  for  Northern  Queensland.  His  brother 
Dyson  was  a  poet  of  by  no  means  ordinary  calibre. 
Mr.  Dawson's  book  is  now  before  the  public, 
and  the  present  writer  has  more  than  one 
book  or  two  to  his  credit,  which  the  public 
have  been  good  enough  to  read,  and  reviewers  to 

Before  I  begin  my  history  of  the  smaller  Sepoy 
Rebellion,  I  must  introduce  Mr.  Robert  Craufurd, 
younger,  of  Ardmillan,  a  brother  of  the  late  Lord 
Ardmillan.  This  gentleman  dwelt  at  Eumeralla 
East,  a  subdivision  of  the  original  run,  which,  in  my 
time,  was  the  property  of  the  late  Mr.  Benjamin 
Boyd.  The  river  divided  the  two  runs.  Messrs. 
Gorrie  and  M'Gregor  had  acquired  Eumeralla  West, 
with  its  original  homestead  and  improvements,  by 
what  we  should  call  in  the  present  day  something 
very  like  "  jumping."  However,  I  had  no  better  claim 
to  the  Doghole-point,  which  was  a  part  of  the  old 
Eumeralla  run — as  indeed  was  Dunmore  and  all  the 
country  within  twenty  or  thirty  miles — if  the  original 
occupant  of  that  station  was  to  be  believed.  The 
commissioner — the  gallant  and  autocratic  Captain 
Fyans — settled  the  matter,  as  was  the  wont  of  those 
days,  by  his  resistless  fiat.  He  "  gave "  Messrs. 
Gorrie  and  M'Gregor  the  western  side  of  the 
Eumeralla,  with  the  homestead  and  the  best  fattening 
country.  He  restricted  Mr.  Boyd  to  the  eastern  side 
of  the  river,  giving  him  his  choice,  however.  That 
was  the  reason  why  Tinker  Woods  had  to  build  new 
huts  ;  and  he  eventually  allotted  to  me  Squattlesea 
Merc,  and  its  dependencies,  as  far  as  the  Doghole- 
point,   though    my   friend,   Bob   Craufurd,  on    behalf 

vi  THE  EUMERALLA   WAR  6 1 

of  his  employer,  strove  stoutly  to  have  me  turned 

Mr.  Craufurd,  like  other  cadets  of  good  family, 
had  somewhat  swiftly  got  rid  of  the  capital  which  he 
imported,  and,  for  lack  of  other  occupation,  accepted 
the  berth  of  manager  of  Eumeralla  East  for  Mr. 
Boyd,  and  a  very  good  manager  he  was.  A  fine 
horseman,  shrewd,  clear-headed,  and  energetic  on 
occasion,  he  did  better  for  that  enterprising  ill-fated 
capitalist  than  he  ever  did  for  himself.  He  and  the 
Dunmore  people  were  old  friends  and  schoolfellows. 
So,  it  may  be  guessed  that  we  often  found  it  con- 
venient to  exchange  our  somewhat  lonely  and 
homely  surroundings  for  the  comparative  luxury  and 
refinement  of  Dunmore.  What  grand  evenings  we 
used  to  have  there  ! 

He  was  a  special  humourist.  I  often  catch  my- 
self now  laughing  at  one  of  "  Craufurd's  stories  " — 
an  inveterate  practical  joker,  a  thorough  sportsman, 
a  fair  scholar,  and  scribbler  of  jeux  d'esprit,  he  was 
the  life  and  soul  of  our  small  community.  He  once 
counterfeited  a  warrant,  which  he  caused  to  be  served 
on  Mr.  Cunningham  for  an  alleged  shooting  of  a 
blackfellow.  Even  that  bold  Briton  turned  pale 
(and  a  more  absolutely  fearless  man  I  never  knew) 
when  he  found  himself,  as  he  supposed,  within  the 
iron  gripe  of  the  law. 

We  were  all  pretty  good  shots.  For  one  reason 
or  other  the  gun  was  rarely  a  day  out  of  our  hands. 
We  were  therefore  in  a  position  to  do  battle  effect- 
ively for  our  homesteads  and  means  of  subsistence  if 
these  were  assailed.  Between  my  abode  and  the  sea 
was   but   one   other   run — a    cattle   station.      Sheep 

62  OLD  MELBOURNE  MEMORIES        chap,  vi 

were  in  the  minority  in  those  days.  It  was  occupied 
by  two  brothers — the  Messrs.  Jamieson — Scots  also  ; 
they  seemed  to  preponderate  in  the  west.  Their  run 
rejoiced  in  the  aspiring  title  of  Castle  Donnington. 
It  was  rather  thickly  timbered,  possessed  a  good  deal 
of  limestone  formation,  and  had  a  frontage  to  Darlot's 
Creek,  an  ever-flowing  true  river  which  there  ran  into 
the  sea. 



Mr.  LEARMONTH  had  taken  up  Ettrick  and  Ellan- 
gowan,  a  few  miles  higher  up  on  the  same  creek, 
about  the  same  time  that  I  "  sat  down "  on  the 
Lower  Eumeralla.  This  gentleman,  since  an  officer 
of  high  rank  in  the  volunteer  force,  had  lately  come 
from  Tasmania,  whence  he  brought  some  valuable 
blood  mares,  with  which  he  founded  a  stud  in  after 
years.  The  cattle  run  comprised  a  good  deal  of  lava 
country.  It  was  there  that  Bradbury,  the  civilised 
aboriginal  before  mentioned,  met  his  death.  All  the 
land  that  lay  between  Eumeralla  proper  and  the  sea, 
a  tract  of  country  of  some  twenty  or  thirty  miles 
square,  had  been  probably  from  time  immemorial  a 
great  hunting-ground  and  rendezvous  for  the  sur- 
rounding tribes.  It  was  no  doubt  eminently  fitted 
for  such  a  purpose.  It  swarmed  with  game,  and  in 
the  spring  was  one  immense  preserve  of  every  kind 
of  wild  fowl  and  wild  animal  that  the  country  owned. 
Among  the  Rocks  there  were  innumerable  caves, 
depressions,  and  hiding-places  of  all  kinds,  in  which 
the  natives  had  been  used   to  find  secure  retreat  and 


safe  hiding  in  days  gone  by.  Whether  they  could 
not  bear  to  surrender  to  the  white  man  these 
cherished  solitudes,  or  whether  it  was  the  short- 
sighted, childish  anxiety  to  possess  our  goods  and 
chattels,  can  hardly  ever  be  told.  Whatever  the 
motive,  it  was  sufficient,  as  on  all  sides  at  once 
came  tales  of  wrong-doing  and  violence,  of  maimed 
and  slaughtered  stock,  of  homicide  or  murder. 

Next  day  we  saw  the  greater  part  of  the  cattle, 
but  those  particular  ones  that  Old  Tom  had  missed 
were  not  to  be  found  anywhere.  We  were  turning 
our  horses'  heads  homewards  when  I  noticed  the 
eaglehawks  circling  around  and  above  a  circular 
clump  of  ti-tree  scrub  in  a  marsh.  W'hile  we  looked 
a  crow  flew  straight  up  from  the  midst  of  the  clump, 
and  we  heard  the  harsh  cry  of  others.  The  same 
thought  evidently  was  in  all  our  minds,  as  we  rode 
straight  for  the  place,  and  forced  our  horses  between 
the  thick -growing,  slender,  feathery  points.  In  the 
centre,  amid  the  tall  tussac  grass,  lay  the  yellow 
heifer  with  the  white  flank,  stone  dead.  A  spear- 
hole  was  visible  beneath  the  back  ribs.  Exactly  on 
the  corresponding  portion  of  the  other  side  was 
another,  proving  that,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  a 
spear  had  been  driven  right  through  her  body. 
After  Old  Tom  had  concluded  his  exclamations  and 
imprecations,  which  were  of  a  most  comprehensive 
nature,  we  agreed  that  the  campaign  had  been 
opened  in  earnest,  and  that  we  knew  what  we  had 
to  expect.  "  We'll  find  more  to-morrow,"  said  the 
old  man.  "  Onest  they'll  begin  like  this,  they'll  never 
lave  off  till  thim  villains,  Jupiter  and  Cocknose,  is 
shot,  anyway." 


These  strangely- named  individuals  had  been 
familiar  to  our  ears  ever  since  our  arrival.  "  Jupiter  " 
was  supposed  to  have  a  title  to  the  head  chieftain- 
ship of  the  tribe  which  specially  affected  the  Rocks 
and  the  neighbourhood  of  the  extinct  volcano. 
Cocknose  had  been  named  by  the  early  settlers  from 
the  highly  unclassical  shape  of  the  facial  appendage. 
He  was  known  to  be  a  restless,  malevolent  savage. 
Again  on  the  war  trail  next  morning,  we  tried  beat- 
ing up  and  down  among  the  paths  by  which  the 
cattle  went  to  water,  at  the  lower  portion  of  the 
great  marsh.  It  may  be  explained  that  the  summer 
of  1844  was  exceptionally  dry,  and  much  of  the 
surface  water  having  disappeared,  the  cattle  were 
compelled  to  walk  in  Indian  file  through  the  ti-tree, 
in  many  places  more  than  ten  feet  in  height,  to  the 
deeper  portion  of  the  marsh,  where  water  was  still 

Here  Joe  Burge  hit  off  a  trail,  which  seemed 
likely  to  solve  the  mystery.  "  Here  they've  been 
back  and  forward,  and  pretty  thick  too,"  he  said, 
getting  off  and  pointing  to  the  track  of  native  feet, 
plain  enough  in  the  swamp  mud. 

"  Cattle  been  here,"  said  the  old  stockman,  "  and 
running  too.  Look  at  thim  deep  tracks.  The 
thieves  of  the  world,  my  heavy  curse  on  them  !  " 

As  we  followed  on  the  trail  grew  broader  and 
more  plain.  A  few  head  of  cattle  had  evidently  been 
surrounded — two  or  more  bullocks,  we  agreed,  and 
several  cows  and  calves,  heading  now  in  this  direction, 
now  in  that.  Presently  half  of  a  broken  spear  was 
picked  up.  We  followed  the  track  to  a  thick  brake 
of  reeds  nearly  opposite  to  a  jutting  cape  of  the  lava 



country.  There  we  halted.  A  new  character  was 
legible  in  the  cipher  we  had  been  puzzling  out. 

"  They've  thrown  him  here,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  Here's  where  he  fell  down.  There's  blood  on  that 
tuft  of  grass  ;  and  here's  the  mark  of  the  side  of  him 
in  the  mud.  They've  cut  him  up  and  carried  him 
away  into  the  Rocks,  bit  by  bit — hide  and  horns, 
bones  and  mate.  The  divil  resave  the  bit  of  Magpie 
ever  we'll  see  again.     There's  where  they  wint  in." 

Sure  enough  we  saw  a  plainly-marked  track,  with 
a  fragment  of  flesh,  or  a  blood-stain,  showing  the 
path  by  which  they  had  carried  in  a  slaughtered 
animal.  Further  we  could  not  follow  them,  as  the 
lava  downs  were  at  this  spot  too  rough  for  horses, 
and  we  might  also  have  been  taken  at  a  disadvantage. 
So,  on  the  second  evening,  we  rode  home,  having 
found  what  we  went  out  to  seek,  certainly,  but  not 
elated  by  the  discovery. 

It  now  became  a  serious  question  how  to  bear 
ourselves  in  the  face  of  the  new  state  of  matters.  If 
the  blacks  persisted  in  a  guerilla  warfare,  besides 
killing  many  of  the  best  of  our  cattle,  they  would 
scatter  and  terrify  the  remainder,  so  that  they  would 
hardly  stay  on  the  run  ;  besides  which,  they  held  us 
at  a  disadvantage.  They  could  watch  our  move- 
ments, and  from  time  to  time  make  sorties  from  the 
Rocks,  and  attack  our  homesteads  or  cut  us  off  in 
detail.  In  the  winter  season  much  of  the  forest 
land  became  so  deep  and  boggy  that,  even  on  horse- 
back, if  surprised  and  overmatched  in  numbers,  there 
would  be  very  little  chance  of  getting  away.  By  this 
time  the  owners  of  the  neighbouring  stations  were 
fully  aroused   to  the  necessity  of   concerted  action. 


We  had  reached  the  point  when  "  something  must 
be  done."  We  could  not  permit  our  cattle  to  be 
harried,  our  servants  to  be  killed,  and  ourselves  to 
be  hunted  out  of  the  good  land  we  had  occupied  by 
a  few  savages. 

Our  difficulty  was  heightened  by  its  being 
necessary  to  behave  in  a  quasi -legal  manner. 
Shooting  blacks,  except  in  manifest  self-defence,  had 
been  always  held  to  be  murder  in  the  Supreme 
Courts  of  the  land,  and  occasionally  punished 
as  such. 

Now,  there  were  obstacles  in  the  way  of  taking 
out  warrants  and  apprehending  Jupiter  and  Cocknose, 
or  any  of  their  marauding  braves,  in  the  act.  The 
Queen's  writ,  as  in  certain  historic  portions  of  the 
west  of  Ireland,  did  not  run  in  those  parts.  Like 
all  guerillas,  moreover,  their  act  of  outrage  took 
place  sometimes  in  one  part  of  a  large  district, 
sometimes  in  another,  the  actors  vanishing  mean- 
while, and  reappearing  with  puzzling  rapidity. 

We  went  now  well  armed.  We  were  well 
mounted  and  vigilantly  on  guard.  The  Children 
of  the  Rocks  were  occasionally  met  with,  when 
collisions,  not  all  bloodless,  took  place. 

Their  most  flagrant  robbery  was  committed  on 
Mr.  John  Cox's  Mount  Napier  station,  whence  a 
flock  of  maiden  ewes  was  driven,  and  the  shepherd 
maltreated.  These  young  sheep  were  worth  nearly 
two  pounds  per  head,  besides  being  impossible  to 
replace.  Mr.  Cox  told  me  himself  that  they  con- 
stituted about  a  third  of  his  stock  in  sheep  at  the 
time.  He  therefore  armed  a  few  retainers  and 
followed  hot  on  the  trail. 


He  had  unusual  facilities  for  making  successful 
pursuit.  In  his  house  lived  a  tame  aboriginal 
named  Sou'wester,  who  had  a  strong  personal 
attachment  for  Mr.  Cox.  Like  most  of  his  race,  he 
had  the  true  bloodhound  faculty  when  a  man-hunt 
was  in  question.  He  led  the  armed  party,  following 
easily  the  trampling  of  the  flock  in  the  long  grass 
until  they  reached  the  edge  of  the  Rocks. 

Into  this  rugged  region  the  flock  had  been  driven. 
Before  long  Sou'wester's  piercing  eye  discovered  signs 
of  their  having  been  forced  along  the  rocky  paths  at 
the  point  of  the  spear. 

It  was  evident  to  him  that  they  were  making  for 
the  lake,  which  was  in  the  centre  of  the  lava  country. 

By  and  by  he  pointed  out  that,  by  the  look  of 
the  tracks,  they  were  gaining  upon  the  robbers. 
And  shortly  too  sure  an  indication  of  the  reckless 
greed  and  cruelty  of  the  savage  was  furnished. 

Passing  round  an  angular  ridge  of  boulders, 
suddenly  they  came  upon  about  a  hundred  young 
sheep,  which  had  been  left  behind.  "  But  why  are 
they  all  lying  down  ? "  said  one  of  the  party. 

The  tracker  paused,  and,  lifting  a  hind-leg  of  one 
of  the  helpless  brutes,  showed  without  speech  that 
the  limb  was  useless. 

The  robbers  had  dislocated  the  hind-legs  as  a 
simple  preventive  of  locomotion  ;  to  insure  their 
being  in  the  same  place  when  it  should  please  their 
captors  to  return  and  eat  them. 

"  I  never  felt  so  wolfish  in  my  life,"  said  Mr.  Cox 
to  me,  afterwards,  "  as  when  I  saw  the  poor  things 
turn  up  their  eyes  reproachfully  as  they  lay,  as  if 
imploring  our  assistance." 


A  few  more  miles  brought  them  up  with  the 
main  body.  They  opened  fire  upon  the  tolerably 
large  body  of  blacks  in  possession,  directly  they 
came  within  range. 

"It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  levelled  a  gun 
at  my  fellow-man,"  John  Cox  remarked.  "  I  did  so 
without  regret  or  hesitation  in  this  instance.  I 
never  remember  having  the  feeling  that  I  could  not 
miss  so  strong  in  me — except  in  snipe-shooting.  I 
distinctly  remember  knocking  over  three  blacks,  two 
men  and  a  boy,  with  one  discharge  of  my  double 

Sou'wester  had  a  good  innings  that  day,  which 
he  thoroughly  enjoyed.  He  fired  right  and  left, 
raging  like  a  demoniac.  One  huge  black,  wounded 
to  death,  hastened  his  own  end  by  dragging  out  his 
entrails,  meanwhile  praising  up  the  weapons  of  the 
white  man  as  opposed  to  those  of  the  black. 
Sou'wester  cut  short  his  death-song  by  blowing  out 
his  brains  with  the  horse-pistol  of  the  period. 

A  few  of  the  front-rankers  were  shot  on  this 
occasion  ;  but  most  of  the  others  saved  themselves 
by  precipitately  taking  to  the  lake. 

After  this  nothing  happened  for  a  while,  until 
one  day  a  good-sized  party  was  discovered  killing  a 
bullock  of  Messrs.  Jamieson,  near  Ettrick.  The 
brothers  Jamieson  and  Major  Learmonth — then 
unknown  to  martial  fame — went  out  to  dispute  title. 
The  scene  was  in  a  reed-brake — the  opposing  force 
numerous.  Spears  began  to  drop  searchingly  amid 
and  around  the  little  party.  It  looked  like  another 
Isandula,  and  the  swart  foe  crept  ominously  close, 
and  yet  more  close,  from  tree  to  tree. 


Then  a  spear  struck  William  Jamieson  in  the 
forehead — a  rough  straw  hat  alone  saving  his  brain. 
The  blood  rushed  down,  and,  dripping  on  his  gun, 
damped  the  priming. 

Things  looked  bad.  A  little  faltering  had  lost 
the  fight. 

But  the  Laird  of  Ettrick  shot  the  savage  dead 
who  threw  the  spear,  and  under  cover  of  this 
surprise  he  and  Robert  Jamieson  carried  their 
wounded  comrade  safely  out  of  the  field. 

Among  other  experiments  for  the  benefit  of  the 
tribe,  I  had  adopted  a  small  black  boy.  He  was 
formally  handed  over  to  me  by  his  grand-uncle,  who 
informed  me  that  his  name  was  Tommy,  and  adjured 
me  to  "  kick  him  plenty."  With  this  thoughtful 
admonition  from  his  only  surviving  male  relative  I 
did  not  trouble  myself  to  comply,  though  it  occurred 
to  me  subsequently  that  it  was  founded  upon  a 
correct  analysis  of  boy  nature  generally,  and  of 
Master  Tommy's  in  particular.  So  he  was  a  good 
deal  spoiled,  and,  though  occasionally  useful  with 
the  cattle,  did  pretty  much  as  he  liked,  and  vexed 
the  soul  of  good  Mrs.  Burge  continually. 

One  night,  when  we  had  been  on  the  run  all  day 
and  had  found  the  cattle  much  disorganised,  we 
noticed  an  unusual  number  and  brilliancy  of  fires  at 
the  black  camp  in  the  Rocks.  We  could  generally 
see  their  fires  in  the  distance  at  night,  and  could 
judge  of  the  direction  of  the  camp,  though,  owing  to 
the  broken  nature  of  the  ground,  we  did  not  seek  to 
follow  them  up,  unless  when  making  a  reconnaissance 
en  force. 

On    this     particular     night,    however,    something 


more  than  usual  appeared  to  be  going  on.  The 
dogs,  too,  were  uneasy,  and  I  could  see  that  Old 
Tom  appeared  to  be  perturbed  and  anxious. 

"  I  wouldn't  be  putting  it  past  them  black  divils 
to  be  makin'  a  rush  some  night  and  thryin'  to  burn 
the  hut  on  us,"  he  said  gloomily.  "If  we  lave  them 
there,  atin'  and  roastin'  away  at  shins  of  beef  and 
the  hoighth  of  good  livin',  as  they  have  now,  they'll 
think  we're  afraid,  and  there'll  be  no  houldin'  them. 
Ye  might  get  the  gintlemen  from  Dunmore,  and 
Peter  Kearney,  and  Joe  Betts,  and  Mr.  Craufurd, 
from  Eumeralla,  and  give  them  a  fright  out  of  that 
before  they  rise  on  us  in  rale  arnest." 

"  No,  Tom,"  I  said  ;  "  I  should  not  think  that 
just  or  right.  I  believe  that  they  have  been  killing 
our  cattle,  but  I  must  catch  them  in  the  act,  and 
know  for  certain  what  blacks  they  are,  before  I  take 
the  law  into  my  own  hands.  As  to  driving  them 
away  from  the  Rocks,  it  is  their  own  country,  and  I 
will  not  attack  them  there  till  they  have  done 
something  in  my  presence  to  deserve  it." 

"  Take  your  own  way,"  said  the  old  man,  sullenly. 
He  lit  his  pipe,  and  said  no  more. 

That  night,  about  midnight,  the  dogs  began  to 
bark  in  a  violent  and  furious  manner,  running  out 
into  the  darkness  and  returning  with  all  the  appear- 
ance of  having  seen  something  hostile  and  unusual. 
We  turned  out  promptly,  and,  gun  in  hand,  went  out 
some  distance  into  the  darkness.  The  night  was  of 
a  pitchy  Egyptian  darkness,  in  which  naught  was 
visible  a  hand's  breadth  before  one.  Once  we  heard 
a  low  murmur  as  of  cautious  voices,  but  it  ceased. 
Suddenly  the  black  boy,  Tommy,  who  had  crept  a 


few  yards  farther,  came  tearing  back  past  us,  and 
raced  into  the  hut,  where,  apparently  in  an  agony  of 
fear,  he  threw  himself  down  among  the  ashes  of  the 
fireplace,  ejaculating,  "  Wild  blackfellow,  wild  black- 
fellow  ! "  to  the  great  discomposure  of  Mrs.  Burge. 

We  fired  off  a  gun  to  let  them  know  that  we 
were  prepared,  and  separating  so  that  we  surrounded 
the  hut  on  three  sides  of  a  front,  and  could  retreat 
upon  it  if  hard  pressed,  awaited  the  attack. 

It  was  rather  an  exciting  moment.  The  dark 
midnight,  the  intense  stillness,  broken  only  by  the 
baying  of  the  dogs  and  the  "  mysterious  sounds  of 
the  desert "  ;  the  chance  of  a  rush  of  the  wild 
warriors,  who,  if  unchecked  at  the  onset,  would 
obliterate  our  small  outpost — all  these  ideas  passed 
through  my  mind  in  quick  succession  as  we  stood  to 
our  guns,  and  shouted  to  them  to  come  on. 

"  But  none  answered."  They  probably  came 
near,  under  cover  of  the  darkness,  and,  true  to  their 
general  tactics,  declined  to  make  an  attack  when  the 
garrison  was  prepared.  Had  they  caught  us  nap- 
ping, the  result  might  have  been  different.  This  view 
of  the  subject  was  confirmed  by  something  which 
happened  a  little  while  afterwards,  and  gave  us  a 
most  apposite  text  on  which  to  enlarge  in  our 
memorials  to  the  Government.  I  happened  to  be 
away  with  Old  Tom  on  a  journey  which  took  us 
more  than  a  week.  When  I  returned,  "  wonderful 
ashes  had  fallen  on  our  heads,"  as  Hadji  Baba 
phrases  it.  Our  homestead  had  been  surprised  and 
taken  by  the  enemy.  They  had  held  possession  of 
the  hut  for  an  hour  or  more,  and  cleared  it  of  all 
that    they    regarded    as    valuable.       Blood    had    not 


been  spilled,  but  "  it  was  God's  mercy,"  Mrs.  Burge 
said,  "  that  she,  and  Joe,  and  the  precious  baby  had 
not  all  been  killed  and  murdered,  and  eaten,  and  all 
the  cattle  driven  into  the  Rocks."  I  began  to  think 
that  I  would  never  go  away  again — certainly  not 
for  a  few  years — if  adventures  of  this  sort  were 
possible  in  my  absence.  After  a  little  blowing  off 
of  steam,  on  Old  Tom's  part,  I  gathered  from  the 
calmer  narrative  of  Joe  Burge  the  substance  of  the 



On  the  third  day  after  our  departure  Joe  and  his 
wife  were  in  the  milking-yard  finishing  the  morning's 
work,  when  suddenly  Mrs.  Burge,  looking  towards 
the  road,  exclaimed,  "  Good  God  !  the  hut's  full  of 
blacks  ! "  Realising  that  her  infant  lay  in  his  cradle 
in  the  front  room,  she  rushed  down,  in  spite  of  Joe's 
command  to  stay  where  she  was  while  he  confronted 
the  enemy. 

"  Sure,  isn't  the  child  there  ?  "  she  said.  "  And 
whether  or  not,  mayn't  you  and  I  be  as  well  killed 
together  ?  " 

Joe,  having  no  sufficiently  effective  answer  at 
hand,  was  fain  to  follow  his  more  impetuous  help- 
mate with  what  speed  he  might.  When  they 
arrived  on  the  scene,  they  found  about  twenty  or 
thirty  blacks  briskly  engaged  in  pillaging  the  hut. 
They  were  passing  and  repassing  from  out  the 
doorway,  handing  to  one  another  provisions  and 
everything  which  attracted  their  cupidity. 

Mrs.  Burge,  in  her  own  words,  first  "  med  into 
the   big  room,  and   the   first   thing   I   seen  was  this 

chap,  vin  THE  NATIVE  POLICE  75 

precious  baby  on  the  floor,  and  him  with  the  cradle 
turned  upside  down  over  him.  It's  a  mercy  he 
wasn't  smothered  !  I  jostled  the  blackfellows,  but 
none  of  them  took  any  notice  of  me.  When  I  got 
outside,  who  should  I  see  but  that  little  villain 
Tommy  coming  out  of  the  dairy  with  something  in 
his  hand.  I  put  down  the  child  and  riz  the  tin 
milk-dish  off  the  meat-block  and  hit  him  over  the 
top  of  the  head  with  it.  Down  he  drops  like  a 
cock.  I  caught  hold  of  him  by  the  hair,  and  tried 
to  hold  him  down,  but  he  was  too  slippery  for  me, 
and  got  up  again.  I  thought  worse  of  the  ungrate- 
ful little  villain  than  all  the  rest.  Many's  the  good 
drink  of  milk  he  had  in  that  same  dairy,  and  now 
he  comes  an'  lades  on  the  blacks  to  rob  the  hut,  and 
perhaps  kill  poor  Joe,  that  never  did  him  anything 
but  good,  and  me  and  the  baby." 

Said  Joe  Burge — "  I  went  into  the  hut  quiet-like, 
and  seeing  the  old  woman's  monkey  was  up,  after 
she  got  outside,  gave  her  a  strong  push  as  if  I  was 
angry,  and  sent  her  back  to  the  milking-yard.  She 
wouldn't  go  at  first,  and  I  made  believe  to  hit  her 
and  be  very  angry  with  her.  This  seemed  to  please 
the  blacks,  and  they  grinned  and  spoke  to  one 
another  about  it,  I  could  see.  I  saw  them  carry  out 
all  the  tea,  sugar,  and  flour  they  could  find.  As  far 
as  I  could  make  out,  they  were  not  set  upon  killing 
me  or  her.  They  seemed  rather  in  a  good  humour, 
but  I  knew  enough  of  blacks  to  see  that  the  turn  of 
a  straw  might  make  them  change  their  tune.  One 
fellow  had  my  double  gun,  which  was  loaded  ;  he 
did  not  know  much  about  the  ways  of  a  gun,  which 
was  lucky  for  us.      He  held  up  the  gun  towards  me, 


and  pulled  the  trigger.  The  hammers  were  up,  but 
there  were  no  caps  on.  I  had  taken  them  off  the 
night  before.  When  the  gun  wouldn't  go  off,  he 
says,  '  no  good,  no  good,'  and  laughed  and  handed  it 
to  another  fellow,  who  held  it  in  one  hand  like  a 
fire-stick.  I  saw  they  were  out  for  a  day's  stealing 
only.  I  thought  it  was  better  not  to  cross  them. 
They  were  enough  to  eat  us  if  it  came  to  that.  So 
I  helped  them  to  all  they  wanted,  and  sent  them 
away  in  good  humour  with  themselves  and  me.  By 
and  by  down  comes  the  wife  from  the  milking-yard, 
and  she  rises  an  awful  pillaloo  when  she  sees  what 
they  had  took.  About  a  hundredweight  of  sugar, 
a  quarter-chest  of  tea,  a  half-bag  of  flour,  clothes, 
and,  worse  than  all,  two  or  three  silver  spoons,  with 
the  wife's  initials  on,  which  she  looked  on  as  some- 
thing very  precious.  Master  Tommy,  who  had  put 
up  the  job  to  my  thinking,  cleared  out  with  them. 
I  saw  them  making  a  straight  board  for  the  rocks, 
toward  the  lake.  I  guessed  they  would  camp  there 
that  night.  As  soon  as  they  were  well  out  of  sight 
I  catches  the  old  mare  and  ripped  over  pretty  quick 
to  Dunmore.  I  saw  Mr.  Macknight,  and  told  him, 
and  he  promised  to  make  up  a  party  next  morning 
and  follow  them  up,  and  see  whether  something 
might  not  be  recovered. 

"  Next  morning,  soon  after  sunrise,  he,  and  Mr. 
Irvine,  and  Mr.  Cunningham,  and  their  stockman,  all 
came  riding  up  to  the  place.  They  left  their  horses 
in  our  paddock,  and  we  went  off  on  foot  through 
the  swamp,  and  over  to  the  nearest  point  of  the 

"  We  had  all  guns  but  me.      Mr.  Macknight   and 

vin  THE  NA  TIVE  POLICE  77 

Mr.  Irvine  had  rifles,  Mr.  Cunningham  and  the 
Dunmore  stockman  double -barrels.  It  was  bad 
walking  through  the  rocks,  but  after  a  mile  or  two  I 
hit  off  their  tracks  by  finding  where  they  had 
dropped  one  or  two  little  things  they  had  stolen. 
The  grass  was  so  long  and  thick  that  they  trod  it 
down  like  as  they  were  going  through  a  wheat-field, 
so  we  could  see  how  they  had  gone  by  that. 

"  Well,  after  four  or  five  miles  terrible  hard 
walking,  we  came  in  sight  of  the  lake,  and  just  on  a 
little  knob  on  the  left-hand  side,  with  a  bit  of  flat 
under  it,  was  the  camp.  I  crept  up,  and  could  see 
them  all  sitting  round  their  fires,  and  yarning  away 
like  old  women,  laughing  away  now  and  then.  By 
George,  thinks  I,  you'll  be  laughing  on  the  wrong 
side  of  your  mugs  directly. 

"  Well,  I  crept  back  and  told  the  party,  and  we 
all  began  to  sneak  on  them  quietly,  so  as  to  be  close 
on  them  before  they  had  any  notion  of  our  being 
about,  when  Mr.  Cunningham,  who  was  a  regular 
bull-dog  for  pluck,  but  awful  careless  and  wild-like, 
trips  over  a  big  stone,  tumbling  down  among  the 
rocks,  drops  his  gun,  and  then  swears  so  as  you 
could  hear  him  a  mile  off. 

"  All  the  dogs  in  the  camp — they're  the  devil  and 
all  to  smell  out  white  men — starts  a  barkin'.  The 
blacks  jumps  up,  and,  catching  sight  of  the  party, 
bolts  away  to  the  lake  like  a  flock  of  wild  duck. 
We  gave  'em  a  volley,  but  it  was  a  long  shot,  and 
our  folks  was  rather  much  in  a  hurry.  I  didn't  see 
no  one  tumble  down.  Anyway,  between  divin'  in 
the  lake,  getting  behind  the  big  basalt  boulders  on 
the  shore  of  the  lake,  and  getting  right  away,  when 


we  got  up  the  camp  was  bare  of  everything  but  an 
old  blind  lubra  that  sat  there  with  a  small  child 
beside  her,  blinkin'  with  her  old  eyes,  and  grinnin' 
for  all  the  world  like  one  of  the  Injun  idols  I  used 
to  see  in  the  squire's  hall  at  home.  Just  as  we  got 
up,  one  fellow  bolted  out  from  behind  a  rock,  and 
went  off  like  a  half-grown  forester  buck.  Mr. 
Cunningham  bangs  away  at  him,  and  misses  him  ; 
then  flings  down  his  gun,  and  chivies  after  him  like 
a  schoolboy.  He  had  as  much  chance  of  catching 
him  as  a  collie  dog  has  of  running  down  an  emu. 

"  I  couldn't  hardly  help  bustin'  with  laughin'  ; 
there  was  Mr.  Cunningham,  who  was  tremendous 
strong,  but  rather  short  on  the  leg,  pounding  away 
as  if  he  thought  he'd  catch  him  every  minute,  and 
the  blackfellow,  a  light  active  chap,  spinning  over 
the  stones  like  a  rock-wallaby — his  feet  didn't  hardly 
seem  to  touch  the  ground.  Then  Mr.  Macknight 
was  afraid  Mr.  Cunningham  might  run  into  an 
ambush  or  something  of  that  kind.  '  Mr.  Cunning- 
ham, Mr.  Cunningham,  come  back  !  I  order  you  to 
come  back  ! '  Howsoever,  Mr.  Cunningham  didn't 
or  wouldn't  hear  him  ;  but,  after  awhile,  the  black- 
fellow  runs  clean  away  from  him,  and  he  come  back 
pretty  red  in  the  face,  and  his  boots  cut  all  to  pieces. 
We  rummaged  the  camp,  and  found  most  of  the 
things  that  were  worth  taking  back.  The  flour,  and 
tea,  and  sugar  they  had  managed  to  get  rid  of. 
Most  likely  sat  up  all  night  and  ate  'em  right  off. 
Blacks  feed  like  that,  I  know. 

"  But  we  got  the  gun  and  a  lot  of  other  things 
that  were  of  value  to  us,  as  well  as  my  wife's  silver 
spoons,  which  she  never  stopped  talk  in'  about,  so   I 

viii  THE  NATIVE  POLICE  79 

was  very  glad  to  fall  across  'em.  After  stopping 
half  an  hour  we  made  up  all  the  things  that  could 
be  carried,  and  marched  away  for  home.  It  was  a 
long  way,  and  we  were  pretty  well  done  when  we 
got  there.  However,  my  old  woman  gave  us  a  first- 
rate  tea,  and  I  caught  the  horses,  and  the  gentlemen 
rode  home.  There's  no  great  harm  done,  sir,  that  I 
know  of,  but  it  might  have  been  a  plaguy  sight 
zvorse  ;  don't  you  think  so,  sir  ?  " 

I  could  not  but  assent  to  the  proposition.  The 
caprice  of  the  savage  had  apparently  turned  their 
thoughts  from  blood  revenge,  though  they  "  looted  " 
the  establishment  pretty  thoroughly.  Another  time 
worse  might  easily  happen.  We  determined  to  keep 
good  watch,  and  not  to  trust  too  much  to  the  chapter 
of  accidents. 

After  half  a  ream  of  foolscap  had  been  covered 
with  representations  to  the  Governor,  in  which  I 
proudly  hoped  to  convey  an  idea  that  our  condition 
was  much  like  that  of  American  border  settlers  when 
Tecumseh  and  Massasoit  were  on  the  war-path,  a 
real  live  troop  of  horse  was  despatched  to  our  assist- 
ance. First  came  two  of  the  white  mounted  police 
from  Colac  ;  then  a  much  more  formidable  contingent, 
for  one  morning  there  rode  up  eight  troopers  of  the 
native  police,  well  armed  and  mounted,  carbine  in 
sling,  sword  in  sheath,  dangling  proper  in  regular 
cavalry  style.  The  irregular  cavalry  force  known  as 
the  Native  Police  was  then  in  good  credit  and 
acceptation  in  our  colony.  They  had  approved 
themselves  to  be  highly  effective  against  their  sable 
kinsmen.  The  idea  originated  in  Victoria,  if  I  mis- 
take  not,   and   was    afterwards    developed    in    New 


South  Wales,  still  later  in  Queensland.  Mr.  H.  E. 
Pulteney  Dana  and  his  brother  William  were  the 
chief  organisers  and  first  officers  in  command.  They 
were  principally  recruited  from  beyond  the  Murray, 
and  occasionally  from  Gippsland.  They  were  rarely 
or  never  used  in  the  vicinity  of  their  own  tribes. 
Picked  for  physique  and  intelligence,  well  disciplined, 
and  encouraged  to  exercise  themselves  in  athletic 
sports  when  in  barracks,  they  were  by  no  means  to 
be  despised  as  adversaries,  as  was  occasionally  dis- 
covered by  white  as  well  as  black  wrongdoers. 

Mounted  on  serviceable,  well-conditioned  horses, 
all  in  uniform,  with  their  carbines  slung,  and  steel 
scabbards  jingling  as  they  rode,  they  presented  an 
appearance  which  would  have  done  no  discredit  to 
Hodson  or  Jacob's  Horse.  Buckup,  as  non-commis- 
sioned officer,  rode  slightly  in  front,  the  others 
following  in  line.  As  I  came  out  of  the  hut  door 
the  corporal  saluted.  "  We  been  sent  up  by  Mr. 
Dana,  sir,  to  stop  at  this  station  a  bit.  Believe  the 
blacks  been  very  bad  about  here." 

The  blacks  !  This  struck  me  as  altogether  lovely 
and  delicious.  How  calm  and  lofty  was  his  expres- 
sion !  I  answered  with  decorum  that  they  had, 
indeed,  been  very  bad  lately — speared  the  cattle, 
robbed  the  hut,  etc.  ;  that  yesterday  we  had  seen  the 
tracks  of  a  large  mob  of  cattle,  which  had  been 
hunted  in  the  boggy  ground  at  the  back  of  the  run 
for  miles. 

"  They  only  want  a  good  scouring,  sir,"  quoth 
Buckup,  carelessly,  as  he  gave  the  order  to  dis- 

As  they  stood  before  me  I  had  a  good  opportunity 


of  observing  their  general  appearance.  Buckup  was 
a  fine-looking  fellow,  six  feet  high,  broad  shouldered 
and  well  proportioned,  with  a  bold,  open  cast  of 
countenance,  set  off  with  well-trimmed  whiskers  and 
moustache.  He  was  a  crack  hand  with  the  gloves, 
I  heard  afterwards,  and  so  good  a  wrestler  that  he 
might  have  come  off  in  a  contest  with  Sergeant 
Francis  Stewart,  sometimes  called  Bothwell,  nearly 
as  satisfactorily  as  did  Balfour  of  Burley.  Tallboy, 
so  called  from  his  unusual  height,  probably,  was  a 
couple  of  inches  taller,  but  slender  and  wiry  looking  ; 
while  Yapton  was  a  middle-sized,  active  warrior,  with 
a  smooth  face,  a  high  nose,  heavy,  straight  hair,  and 
a  grim  jaw.  I  thought  at  the  time  he  must  be  very 
like  an  American  Indian.  The  others  I  do  not 
particularly  recall,  but  all  had  a  smart,  serviceable 
look,  as  they  commenced  to  unsaddle  their  horses  and 
pile  their  arms  and  accoutrements,  preparatory  to 
making  camp  in  a  spot  which  I  had  pointed  out 
to  them. 

They  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  in  this  necessary 
preliminary,  and  by  nightfall  had  a  couple  of  mia- 
mias  solidly  built  with  their  backs  to  the  sea  wind, 
and  neatly  thatched  with  tussac  grass  from  the 

During  the  afternoon  Buckup  held  consultation 
with  me,  Joe  Burge,  and  Old  Tom,  at  the  conclusion 
of  which  he  professed  himself  to  be  in  possession  of 
the  requisite  information,  and  decided  as  to  future 

Next  morning,  early,  the  white  troopers  and  the 
blacks  started  off  for  a  long  day  in  the  Rocks,  on 
foot.     It  was  almost  impossible  to  take  horses  through 



that  rugged  country,  and  the  police  horses  were  too 
good  to  be  needlessly  exposed  to  lameness,  and 
probably  disablement.  Long  afterwards  a  trusty 
retainer  of  mine  was  betrayed  into  a  hardish  ride 
therein  after  an  unusually  tempting  mob  of  fat  cattle 
and  unbranded  calves,  which  had  escaped  muster  for 
more  than  a  year.  The  shoes  of  the  gallant  mare 
which  he  rode  came  off  before  the  day  was  done. 
He  was  compelled  to  leave  her  with  bleeding  feet 
a  mile  from  the  edge  of  the  smooth  country,  bringing 
out  the  cattle,  however,  with  the  aid  of  his  dogs. 
Next  day  we  went  back  to  lead  her  out,  but  poor 
Chilena  was  as  dead  as  Britomarte. 

So,  lightly  arrayed,  the  black  troopers  stole  through 
the  reeds  of  the  marsh,  in  the  dim  light  of  a  rainy 
dawn,  and  essayed  to  track  the  rock-wolves  to  their 
lair.  Camps  they  found,  many  a  one,  having  good 
store  of  beef  bones  at  all  of  them,  but  the  indigenes 
were  gone,  though  signs  of  recent  occupation  were 
plentiful.  An  outlying  scout  had  "  cut  the  track " 
of  the  trooper's  horses,  and  "jaloused,"  as  Mr.  Gorrie 
would  have  said,  only  too  accurately  what  was  likely 
to  follow.  Anyhow,  the  contingent  returned  tired 
and  rather  sulky  after  sundown,  with  their  boots 
considerably  the  worse  for  wear.  I  did  not  myself 
accompany  the  party,  nor  did  I  propose  to  do  so  at 
any  other  time.  I  took  it  for  granted  that  blood 
might  be  shed,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  be  an  eye-witness 
or  participator.  The  matter  at  issue  was  now  grave 
and  imminent.  Whether  should  we  crush  the  un- 
provoked c'meute,  or  remove  the  remnant  of  our  stock, 
abandon  our  homesteads,  and  yield  up  the  good  land 
of  which  we  had  taken  possession  ? 


It  would  hardly  have  been  English  to  do  the 
latter.  So  we  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  make  the 
best  fight  we  could. 

A  fresh  reconnaissance  was  made  daily  from  my 
homestead,  sometimes  in  one  direction,  sometimes  in 
another.  But  though  rumours  were  heard  of  their 
appearance  in  different  and  distant  parts  of  the  district, 
no  actual  sight  of  the  foe  could  be  accomplished. 
Buckup  and  his  men-at-arms,  after  the  first  day, 
were  very  patient  and  cheerful  about  the  matter. 
They  played  quoits,  of  which  I  had  a  set — wrestled 
and  boxed  during  their  leisure  hours,  shot  kangaroo 
and  wild  duck,  and  generally  comported  themselves 
as  if  this  sort  of  thing  was  all  in  the  day's  work. 
Meantime,  the  heavy  winter  rains  had  begun  to  fall 
and  the  marshes  to  fill  ;  the  forest  became  so  satu- 
rated that  horses  could  hardly  be  ridden  over  it  in 
places.  I  had  occasion  to  go  to  Belfast  for  a  couple 
of  days  on  business.  When  I  returned  I  found  that 
a  regular  engagement  had  taken  place  the  day 
before,  the  result  of  which  would  probably  be 

Neither  of  my  men  had  been  out,  as  it  happened, 
but  they  had  gleaned  their  information  from  the  white 
troopers,  and  very  sparingly  from  Buckup.  Beyond 
saying  that  they  had  come  up  with  the  main  body  of 
the  tribe  and  given  them  a  scouring,  he  was  disposed 
to  say  but  little. 

On  this  particular  day  an  expedition  had  been 
made  to  a  "  heathy,"  desolate  tract  of  country  which 
lay  at  "  the  back  "  of  the  run.  Here  were  isolated 
marshes  covered  with  rushes,  and  for  the  most  part 
surrounded  with  belts  of  tall  ti-tree  scrub.      Between 


these  were  sand-hills  with  a  thick,  sheltering  growth 
of  casuarina  and  banksia,  while  here  and  there  grew 
copses  of  mimosa  and  blackwood,  the  Australian 
hickory.  Here,  it  seems,  the  police  were  plodding 
along,  apparently  on  their  usual  persistent  but 
unavailing  search,  when  suddenly  one  of  the  men 
pulled  up,  dismounted,  and,  picking  up  something, 
gave  a  low,  sibilant  whistle.  In  an  instant  the  whole 
troop  gathered  around  him,  while  he  held  up  a  small 
piece  of  bark  which  had  quite  recently  been  ignited. 
Not  a  word  was  said  as  Yapton  took  the  lead,  at 
a  sign  from  Buckup,  and  the  rest  of  the  black  troopers 
followed  in  loose  order,  like  questing  hounds,  examin- 
ing with  eager  eyes  every  foot  of  the  way.  Shortly 
afterwards  a  tree  was  discovered  where,  with  a  few 
fresh  cuts  of  a  tomahawk,  a  grub  had  been  taken 
out  of  the  hollow  wood.      The  trail  had  been  struck. 

Patiently  for  several  hours  the  man -hunters 
followed  up  the  tracks,  while  fresh  signs  from  time 
to  time  showed  that  a  large  body  of  blacks  had  quite 
recently  passed  that  way.  Suddenly,  at  a  yell  from 
Yapton,  every  man  raised  his  head,  and  then  rode  at 
full  speed  towards  a  frantic  company  of  savages 
as,  startled  and  surprised,  they  made  for  a  patch  of 

The  horses  fell  and  floundered  from  time  to  time 
in  the  deep,  boggy  soil,  but  their  desperate  riders 
managed  to  lift  and  hustle  them  up  as  the  last  black 
disappeared  in  the  ti-trce.  Unluckily  for  them,  the 
scrub  was  not  a  large  one,  and  the  ground  on  either 
side  comparatively  clear. 

Buckup  sent  a  man  to  each  corner,  and  himself 
with  two  troopers  charged  into  the  centre.      Spears 


began  to  fly,  and  boomerangs  ;  but  the  wild  men  had 
little  chance  with  their  better- armed  countrymen. 
Out  bolts  a  flying  fugitive,  and  makes  for  the  nearest 
reed-bed.  Tallboy  is  nearest  to  him,  and  his  horse 
moves  as  he  raises  his  carbine,  and  disturbs  the  aim. 
Striking  him  savagely  over  the  head  with  the  butt 
end,  he  raises  his  piece,  fires,  and  Jupiter  drops  on 
his  face.  Quick  shots  follow,  a  general  stampede 
takes  place,  but  few  escape,  and  when  the  troop  turn 
their  horses'  heads  homeward,  all  the  known  leaders 
of  the  tribe  are  down.  They  were  caught  red- 
handed,  too,  a  portion  of  a  heifer  and  her  calf  freshly 
slaughtered  being  found  on  the  spot  where  they  were 
first  sighted. 

Such  was  the  substance  of  the  tale  as  told  to  me. 
It  may  have  been  more  or  less  incorrect  as  to  detail, 
but  Jupiter  and  his  associate  with  the  unclassical 
profile  were  never  seen  alive  again ;  and  as  no  head 
of  stock  was  ever  known  to  be  speared  or  stolen 
after  that  day,  it  may  be  presumed  that  the  chastise- 
ment was  effectual.  Years  afterwards  a  man  showed 
me  the  cicatrix  of  a  bullet-wound  in  the  region  of 
the  chest,  and  asserted  that  "  Police-blackfellow 
'  plenty  kill  him  ' "  on  that  occasion.  He  further 
added  that  he  promptly,  upon  recovery,  hired  himself 
as  a  shepherd  to  "  old  man  Gorrie,"  as  he  disrespect- 
fully termed  that  patriarch,  being  convinced  that 
lawless  proceedings  were  likely  to  bring  him  to  a 
bad  end. 

This  would  seem  to  have  been  the  general 
opinion  of  the  tribe.  After  due  time  they  came  in 
and  made  submission,  working  peaceably  and  use- 
fully for  the  squatters,  who  were  only  too  glad  to 

86  OLD  MELBOURNE  MEMORIES      chap,  v hi 

assist  their  efforts  in  the  right  path.  Many  years 
afterwards  the  remnant  of  the  tribe  was  gathered 
together  and  "  civilised  "  at  the  missionary  station  of 
Lake  Condah,  a  fine  sheet  of  water  at  the  western 
extremity  of  the  lava  country,  and  less  than  twenty 
miles  from  the  scene  of  the  proceedings  described. 
There  the  black  and  half-caste  descendants  of  the 
once  powerful  Mount  Eeles  tribe  dwell  harmlessly 
and  happily,  if  not  usefully  to  the  State.  A  resident 
of  the  district  informed  me  some  time  since  that  a 
black  henchman  of  mine  lived  at  the  Mission,  and 
was  last  seen  driving  some  of  his  kinsfolk  in  a  buggy. 
Tommy  had  taken  advantage  of  his  opportunities, 
moreover,  for  he  sent  a  message  of  goodwill  and 
remembrance  to  me,  further  intimating  that  if  I 
would  write  to  him  lie  would  answer  my  letter ! 
Such  is  the  progress  of  civilisation  ;  but,  with  all 
good  wishes  for  the  success  of  the  experiment,  I  do 
not  anticipate  permanently  valuable  results. 

When  Tommy  and  I  swam  the  Leigh  together, 
one  snowy  day,  bound  for  Ballarat  with  fat  cattle,  I 
suspect  he  was  employed  in  a  manner  more  befitting 
to  his  nature,  and  more  improving  to  his  general 



Our  border  ruffians  being  settled  with  for  good  and 
all,  we  pioneers  were  enabled  to  devote  ourselves  to 
our  legitimate  business — the  breeding  and  fattening 
of  cattle.  For  this  industry  the  Port  Fairy  district 
was  eminently  fitted,  and  at  that  time — how  different 
from  the  present ! — sheep  and  wool  were  rather  at  a 
discount.  Of  course,  some  men  had  sufficient  fore- 
sight and  shrewdness  to  back  the  golden  fleece,  but 
their  experiences  were  not  encouraging. 

The  heavy  herbage  and  rich  soil  of  the  West 
tended  lamentably  to  foot-rot.  The  flocks  seemed 
to  be  in  a  state  of  chronic  lameness.  The  malady 
either  reduced  wool  increase  and  condition  to  a 
point  considerably  below  zero,  or  necessitated  the 
employment  of  such  a  number  of  hands  in  applying 
bluestone  and  butyr  of  antimony  (the  remedies  of  the 
period),  that  the  shearing  subsidy  was  considerably 
encroached  on. 

Then  there  was  "  Scab  " — word  of  dread  and  hate- 
fulness,  herald  of  ruin  and  loss,  of  endless  torment 
to  all  concerned,  of   medicated    dippings,  dressings, 


deaths  and  destructions  innumerable  ;  the  dreadful 
multiplication  of  station  hands,  who  assisted  with 
cheerful  but  perfunctory  effort,  patently  disbelieving 
in  "  any  species  of  cure,"  and  looking  on  the  whole 
affair — disease,  dressing,  and  dipping — as  a  manifest 
dispensation  of  Providence  for  the  sustentation  of  the 
"  poor  man." 

When  all  had  been  done  that  could  be  done  by 
the  proprietor  in  his  desperate  need,  a  single  sheep 
straying  among  the  straggling  flocks,  or  reintroduced 
by  a  careless  or  malignant  station  hand  (and  the 
latter  crime  is  alleged  to  have  been  more  than  once 
committed),  was  sufficient  to  undo  a  year's  labour. 
Then  the  distracting,  expensive  task  had  to  be 
commenced  de  novo. 

In  those  days,  too,  when  fencing  was  not ;  when 
the  shepherds  comprised,  perhaps,  the  very  worst 
class  of  labour  in  the  colonies,  it  may  be  guessed 
how  hard  and  anxious  a  life  was  that  of  the  western 
Victorian  sheepowner. 

His  neighbour,  too,  was  but  too  often  his  natural 
enemy.  A  careless  flockholder  might  supply  a 
nucleus  of  contagion  from  which  a  whole  district 
would  suffer.  This  state  of  matters  continued 
until  the  gold  discoveries,  when  the  shepherds 
having  mostly  withdrawn  themselves,  and  a  com- 
pulsory admixture  of  flocks  taking  place,  scab  spread 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  Victoria. 
What  its  cost  to  the  Government  and  to  private 
persons  was  before  it  was  finally  stamped  out  would 
be  difficult,  very  difficult,  to  find  out — so  large  a  sum 
that  it  would  have  paid  all  concerned  ten  times,  a 
hundred   times  over,  to  have   purchased   all   infected 

ix  KILFERA  89 

stock  at,  say,  ^5  per  head,  only  to  have  cut  the 
throats  of  and  cremated  the  lot. 

"  Behold  how  great  a  matter  a  little  fire  kindleth  " 
is  a  scriptural  aphorism  strictly  applicable  to  acarian 
development.  Many  a  well-to-do  sheepholder  was 
burnt  out  of  house  and  home  by  the  quick-spreading 
ovine  leprosy  which  germinated  at  a  friend's  care- 
lessly-ordered establishment.  So  that  it  came  to 
pass  that  the  "  Gallants  of  Westland  "  were  loath  to 
exchange  the  free  roving  lives  of  cattle -tending 
caballeros  for  the  restricted,  "  pokey,"  worrying  round 
of  duties  to  which  the  sheepholders  seemed  doomed. 
At  one  of  our  gatherings,  at  which — the  majority 
being  cattle-men — a  toast  involving  a  little  indirect 
self-laudation  was  duly  honoured,  a  pioneer  squatter 
from  a  distance  remarked  gravely,  "  How  little  you 
fellows  can  realise  what  a  life  we  have  been  leading 
in  our  district  the  last  year  or  two  !  "  He  had  just 
finished  "  cleaning  "  his  flocks,  as  had  also  his  neigh- 
bours. He  certainly  looked,  as  the  financial  survivor 
of  a  drought  expressed  it  once,  as  though  he  had 
"  come  through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow." 

When  we  rubbed  along  thus  jovially,  deeming 
life  to  be  "  a  great  and  glorious  thing,"  fat  cows 
were  well  sold  at  £2  per  head,  and  bullocks  at 
£3.  Certainly  you  could  buy  stores  (or,  as  they 
primevally  called  them,  "lean  cattle")  at  from  10s. 
to  1 6s.,  prices  which  left  a  margin.  The  Messrs. 
Manifold  bought  a  large  number  of  bullocks  from 
the  Shelleys,  of  Tumut,  at  the  latter  price,  some- 
where about  the  year  1845.  How  they  fattened  at 
Purrumbeet  and  Leura  may  be  imagined  !  They 
fetched  top  prices,  but  were  not  thought  to  pay  so 


well  as  the  early  ripening  station-breds,  on  which  the 
3M  brand  was  thenceforth  chiefly  placed. 

I  became  possessed  of  a  herd  of  a  thousand  head 
about  the  same  time,  which  I  took  "  on  terms,"  as 
the  arrangement  was  thus  called — a  convenient  one 
for  beginners  with  more  country  than  capital,  and  vice 
versa.  I  was  to  have  one-third  of  the  increase,  and 
to  be  paid  ten  per  cent  upon  all  sales  of  fat  cattle. 
They  were  to  be  "  personally  conducted "  by  me 
from  the  Devil's  River — a  place  uncanny  sounding, 
but  not  otherwise  objectionable.  They  were  the 
property  of  Messrs.  Curlewis  and  Campbell  ;  the 
first-named  gentleman  arranged  preliminaries  with 
me  in  town,  and  in  a  few  days  I  again  started 
from  Melbourne  with  high  hopes  and  three  stock- 

Our  route  lay  over  country  that  has  since 
become  historical.  One  half  of  the  herd  was 
located  at  Strathbogie,  and  through  those  forest- 
clothed  solitudes  and  adown  the  steep  shoulder  of 
the  leading  range  had  we  to  drive  our  unwilling 
cattle.  It  was  on  that  occasion  that  I  made 
acquaintance  with  my  good,  warm-hearted  friend 
Charles  Ryan  —  then  a  gay  young  bachelor  living 
at  Kilfera,  on  the  Broken  River.  We  met  at  an 
extremely  small,  not  to  say  dismal  hut  at  Strath- 
bogie, already  inhabited  by  Messrs.  Joe  Simmons, 
Salter,  and  Hall,  who,  together  with  my  men  and 
myself,  were  constrained  to  abide  therein  till  the  cattle, 
weak  and  low  after  their  drive  from  the  head  of  the 
Abercrombie  in  New  South  Wales,  were  mustered. 

"  Come  along  over  with  me  and  let  them  muster 
the  cattle  themselves,  you  have  only  to  take  delivery," 

ix  KILFERA  91 

was  his  highly  natural  salutation  {i.e.  natural  to 
Charles  Ryan),  and  I  came  along  accordingly. 

Kilfera  station  was  a  comfortable  bachelor  home- 
stead, and  it  struck  me,  as  I  saw  it  for  the  first 
time,  that  it  had  a  distinctly  "  Galway  "  look  about 
it.  The  hospitality  was  free  and  unstinted.  I  was 
not  the  only  guest.  As  we  rode  up  we  came  upon 
a  match  at  quoits,  the  players  at  which  wore  the 
air  of  non-combatants.  There  was  a  fine  upstanding 
son  of  Peter  Fin,  "  Modderidderoo  "  by  name,  in  the 
stables ;  on  the  next  day  I  was  shown  the  very 
panel  where  Mr.  Jack  Hunter  had  jumped  "  The 
Badger  "  over  a  three-railed  fence,  without  bridle  or 

"  We  saw  him  coming  up  the  paddock,"  said  my 
host  (he  had  gone  down  to  catch  his  horse  and  taken 
no  bridle  with  him),  "  at  a  swinging  hand-gallop, 
and  all  turned  out  of  the  verandah  to  look.  He 
had  only  a  switch  in  his  hand  ;  when  he  came 
to  the  creek  he  took  it  at  a  fly,  and  then  faced  the 
three -railed  fence  at  the  stable.  He  went  over 
here — over  this  very  rail — and  came  down  sitting  as 
square  as  if  he  was  riding  in  the  park,  holding  his 
hat,  too,  in  both  hands."  "  How  did  he  stop  the 
horse  ?  "  "  He  jumped  off  on  the  straw  heap  here, 
and  fell  on  his  legs  like  a  cat."  I  had  a  slight  pre- 
vious acquaintance  with  the  gentleman  referred  to, 
whose  whilom  sobriquet  of  "  Jack  the  Devil "  was 
fully  deserved,  as  far  as  feats  of  horsemanship 
were  concerned.  He  rode  equally  well  in  a  side- 
saddle, and  once  at  least  defied  the  minions  of  the 
law  decorously  attired  in  a  lady's  riding  habit,  with 
hat,  gloves,  and  whip  to  match. 


To  complete  the  "  wild  sports  of  the  West " 
flavour  with  which  my  fancy  had  invested  Kilfera, 
entered  to  us  that  night,  travelling  with  horses, 
one  Mr.  Crowe,  evidently  of  kin  to  the  "  three 
Mr.  Trenches  of  Tallybash,"  popularly  known  as 
"  mad  Crowe."  Slightly  eccentric  to  an  unprejudiced 
observer  he  appeared  to  be.  He  was  a  tall,  fair- 
haired,  athletic  fellow,  and  he  had  not  been  half 
an  hour  in  the  house  before,  after  gifting  all  his 
horses  with  impossible  qualities  and  improbable  pedi- 
grees, he  offered  to  row,  wrestle,  ride,  drink,  or  fight 
any  one  of  the  company  for  a  liberal  wager.  He 
finished  off  the  evening's  entertainment  by  volunteer- 
ing and  going  outside  to  execute  an  imitation  of  an 
Irish  "  keen  "  at  a  wake,  a  performance  which  was 
likely  to  have  cost  him  dear,  as  it  offended  the 
sensibilities  of  several  of  the  station  hands,  who  were 
strongly  minded  to  arise  and  "  hammer  "  him  (Crowe) 
for  belittling  their  native  land.  "  How  happily  the 
days  of  Thalaba  went  by "  at  Kilfera ;  indeed,  I 
regarded  with  complacency  the  somewhat  protracted 
muster  of  the  Strathbogie  herd.  However,  one  fine 
day  they  were  mustered  and  counted  out  to  me, 
mixed  with  the  Devil's  River  contingent ;  blacks 
and  brindles,  yellows  and  strawberries,  snaileys  and 
poleys,  old  and  young,  they  were  "  a  mixed  herd  " 
in  every  sense.  But  cattle  were  cattle  in  those  days. 
So  I  bade  farewell  to  my  kind  friend  and  pleasant 
acquaintances,  and  took  the  road  for  Port  Fairy — 
four  hundred  miles  or  so.  But  an  odd  hundred 
leagues  of  a  journey  was  nothing  then.  How  the 
country  must  have  altered  since  those  days.  No 
Bcechworth   diggings — Castlemaine,  Sandhurst,  and 

ix  KILFERA  93 

Ballarat  all  in  the  "  forest  primeval "  stage,  innocent 
of  cradle  and  pick,  windlass  and  bucket.  Quartz 
indeed  !  The  first  time  it  was  mentioned  in  my 
hearing  was  by  James  Irvine,  who  was  chaffing 
Captain  Bunbury  about  the  quality  of  his  run  on 
the  Grampians,  and  averring  that  the  only  chance 
of  his  cattle  getting  fat  was  in  the  event  of  their 
being  able  to  live  on  quartz.  Quartz,  quotha !  I 
hardly  knew  what  it  meant,  save  that  it  was  a  kind 
of  rock.  Heavens !  Could  I  have  foreseen  how 
closely  it  was  to  be  interwoven  with  my  destiny — 
with  all  our  destinies,  for  the  matter  of  that ! 

It  was  the  autumn  season,  and  the  way  was 
pleasant  enough,  after  we  left  the  sunless  glens  and 
darksome  mountain  -  sides  of  Strathbogie.  We 
passed  Seven  Creeks  homestead,  then,  or  somewhat 
later,  the  property  of  Mr.  William  Forlonge.  He, 
like  the  rest  of  us,  did  not  know  when  he  was  well 
off,  and  must  move  northward  evermore,  towards 
the  great  Saltbush  Desert,  that  false  Eldorado,  which, 
like  the  loadstone  mountain  in  the  Arabian  tale,  has 
attracted  and  ruined  so  many  a  life,  swallowed  how 
many  a  fortune !  However,  nil  desperandum  is 
his  motto  ;  and  if  fortune  favours  the  brave,  the  plucky 
veteran  of  the  pastoral  army  should  come  out  well 
in  the  end. 

By  easy  stages  we  fared  on  till  we  came  to 
Kilmore.  That  flourishing  city,  as  I  suppose  it  calls 
itself  now,  was  then  chiefly  noted  for  its  mud,  the 
depth  and  blackness  of  which  were  truly  remarkable. 
A  few  potato-growing  farms  and  the  usual  comple- 
ment of  public-houses  made  up  the  town.  There  I 
lost  two  horses,  a  serious  and  melancholy  occurrence 


which  was  likely  to  interfere  with  our  march.  I 
left  the  cattle  to  come  on,  and  resolved  to  ride  to 
Melbourne  to  find  them  or  get  others.  I  knew  they 
were  likely  to  "  make "  in  that  direction,  about  the 
Upper  Plenty. 

At  Kinlochewe  I  encountered  the  late  Mr. 
Dalmahoy  Campbell.  He  condoled  with  me.  How 
pleasant  is  a  sympathetic  manner  from  an  older  man 
to  a  youngster  !  I  have  never  forgotten  those  who, 
in  my  youth,  were  kindly  and  tolerant.  He  gave 
me  the  advice  of  an  experienced  overlander,  and 
promised  to  write  to  a  friend  in  the  neighbourhood 
to  look  out  for  the  runaways. 

At  the  next  stage  I  encountered  my  old  friend 
Fred  Burchett,  late  of  "The  Gums,"  another  Port 
Fairy  man,  luckily  also  bound  that  way  with  a  herd 
of  cows  and  calves — the  latter  given  in — which  he 
had  purchased  from  Mr.  Shelley,  at  Tumut.  His 
cattle  were  just  ahead,  and  he  proposed  that  we 
should  join  forces  at  Keilor,  and  journey  together 
the  rest  of  the  way.  Nothing  could  be  nicer. 
I  forgot  my  griefs.  "  Lost  horses,"  like  "  lost 
sheep,"  produce  acute  suffering  while  they  last ; 
but  the  agony  abates,  as  Macaulay  said.  I  spent 
the  evening  with  him,  and  next  day  went  on  to 

Poor  dear  Fred  !  The  kindest,  the  best-tempered, 
the  most  humorous  of  men  !  How  many  a  laugh 
we  had  together  !  It  has  always  been  a  grief  to  me 
that  he  died  before  the  advent  of  Bret  Hartc  or 
Mark  Twain  !  How  he  would  have  revelled  in 
their  inimitable  touches,  their  daring  drolleries,  their 
purest  pathos.     A  well-read  man  and  a  fair  scholar, 

ix  K1LFERA  95 

his  was  a  mind  nearly  related  to  that  of  Charles 
Lamb,  of  whose  wondrous  semitones  of  mirth  and 
melancholy  he  had  the  fullest  appreciation.  He, 
though  living  fifty  miles  away,  was  one  of  the 
"  Dunmore  mob,"  and  aided  generally  in  the  sym- 
posia which  were  there  enjoyed.  It  was  a  great 
stroke  of  luck  our  being  able  to  join  forces,  and  I 
looked  forward  to  the  rest  of  the  journey  as  quite  a 
pleasant  picnic  party. 

I  did  not  get  my  truant  horses  (they  were 
ultimately  recaptured),  but  I  foraged  up  other  re- 
mounts and  rejoined  my  cattle,  with  which  I  made 
a  cut  across  country  via  Deep  Creek,  Woodlands, 
and  Keilor,  then  the  property  of  Mr.  J.  B.  Watson, 
and  exhibiting  no  foreshadowing  of  a  railway  station. 
Mr.  Burchett  was  only  one  stage  ahead,  I  was  told. 
At  the  Little  River  I  overtook  him.  This  was  his 
observation  on  that  eccentric  watercourse.  Scanning 
with  an  eye  of  deepest  contemplation  its  cavernous 
channel  and  apparently  perfect  freedom  from  the 
indispensable  element,  he  thus  delivered  himself: 
"  They  call  this  the  Little  River.  Well  they  may  ! 
It's  the  smallest  blooming  river  /  ever  came  across  ! 
Why,  we  had  hard  work  to  get  water  enough  in  it 
to  boil  our  kettle  with  !  " 

After  this  amalgamation  everything  went  prosper- 
ously. We  had  plenty  of  driving  power,  and  the 
cattle  strung  along  the  road  daily  with  comparatively 
nimble  feet.  Something  of  this  cheerfulness  may  be 
attributed  to  the  fact  that  we  had  ceased  to  camp 
or  watch  them.  Judging  correctly  that  after  so 
long  a  trail  they  would  be  indisposed  to  ramble, 
we    left   them    out    at    night,    and    slept    the    sleep 


of  the  just.  At  daylight  they  were  always  well 
within  view,  generally  lying  down,  and  half-an-hour's 
work  put  them  all  together.  Fred  was  always  averse 
to  early  exercise,  so  we  compromised  matters  by  his 
lending  me  his  one-eyed  cob,  "  The  Gravedigger,"  so 
called  from  a  partial  resemblance  to  the  animal  in- 
cautiously acquired  by  the  Elder  in  "  Sam  Slick " 
at  a  Lower  Canadian  horse  fair.  "  They're  a  simple 
people,  those  French  ;  they  don't  know  much  about 
horses ;  their  priests  keeps  it  from  'em."  This 
quotation  Fred  had  always  in  his  mouth,  and  as 
"  The  Gravedigger  "  was  not  quite  what  he  appeared 
to  be,  a  perfectly -shaped  and  well-mannered  cob, 
there  certainly  was  a  resemblance.  One  of  his 
peculiarities,  probably  arising  from  defective  vision, 
was  an  occasional  paroxysm  of  unreasonable  fear, 
accompanied  by  backjumping,  which  had  occasion- 
ally unseated  his  master  and  others.  One  day, 
however,  Fred  rode  into  camp  with  a  triumphant 
expression,  having  just  had  a  stand-up  fight  with 
"  The  Gravedigger."  "  He  tried  all  he  knew,  confound 
him  ! "  he  explained,  "  but  he  couldn't  shift  me  an 
inch.  I  had  too  much  mud  on  my  boots."  This 
novel  receipt  for  horsemanship  was  comprehensible 
when  we  glanced  at  the  amount  of  solid  western 
mud  disposed  not  only  on  the  boots,  but  upon  his 
whole  person  and  apparel.  I  had  no  compunction, 
therefore,  in  taking  it  out  of  "  The  Gravedigger  "  in 
those  early  morning  gallops,  and  he  was  decidedly 
less  unsocial  for  the  rest  of  the  day  in  consequence. 

The  only  bad  night  we  had  was  just  before  we 
came  to  the  Leigh  River.  There  we  were  amid  "  pur- 
chased land,"  that  bane  of  the  old-world  pastoralist, 

ix  K1LFERA  97 

so  had  to  watch  all   night  and  keep  our  horses  in 
hand,  which  was  unprecedented. 

When  daylight  broke  my  comrade  said,  with  an 
air  of  tremendous  deliberation,  "  The  men  can  bring 
on  the  cattle  well  enough  now,  Rolf;  suppose  you 
and  I  go  and  breakfast  at  the  Leigh  Inn  ? "  I 
caught  at  the  idea,  and  we  rode  on  the  seven  miles 
as  happy  as  schoolboys  at  the  idea  of  a  real  break- 
fast with  chops  and  steaks,  eggs  and  buttered  toast, 
on  a  clean  tablecloth.  After  a  night's  watching,  too, 
our  appetites  were  something  marvellous.  Fred 
related  to  me  how  on  a  previous  occasion  he  had 
originated  this  "  happy  thought,"  and,  not  to  be 
deficient  of  every  adjunct  to  luxurious  enjoyment, 
had  ordered  a  bath,  and  borrowed  a  clean  shirt  from 
the  landlord.  We  contented  ourselves  with  the  bath 
on  this  turn. 

As  we  sat  in  the  pleasant  parlour  a  couple  of 
hours  later,  serene  and  satisfied— I  might  say 
satiated — reading  the  latest  Port  Phillip  Patriot,  we 
saw  the  long  string  of  cattle  draw  down  a  deep 
gorge  into  the  valley,  and  cross  the  river  in  front  of 
the  house.  Then  we  ordered  out  the  horses,  paid 
our  bill,  and,  with  a  sigh  of  gastronomic  retrospect, 
followed  the  trail  across  the  plain. 




Mr.  BURCHETT  was  rather  famous  for  combining 
pleasure  with  business  when  travelling  on  the  road 
with  stock.  At  times  his  experiments  were  thought 
un  peu  risqucs.  It  was  related  of  him  and  Mr.  Alick 
Kemp  (I  think)  that  finding  themselves  so  near 
Melbourne  as  the  Saltwater  River,  in  sole  charge  of 
a  mob  of  fat  cattle  from  "  The  Gums,"  they  held 
council,  and  decided  that  the  cattle  would  be  all 
right  in  a  bend  of  the  river  till  the  morning,  being 
quiet  and  travel-worn.  The  friends  then  started  for 
Melbourne,  where  they  went  to  the  theatre  and 
otherwise  enjoyed  themselves.  They  came  back 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  to  find  the  cattle 
peacefully  reposing,  and  as  safe  as  houses.  It  might 
well  have  been  otherwise.  There  was  a  dismal  tale 
current  in  the  district  of  the  first  mob  of  fat  cattle 
from  Eumcralla  —  magnificent  animals,  elephants 
in  size,  and  rolling  fat — stampeding  at  the  sight  of 
a  pedestrian,  on  the  road  to  market,  being  lost,  and, 
as  to  the  greater  part,  never  recovered. 

This  time  we  decided  to  take  "the  Frenchman's" 

chap,  x  OLD  PORT  FAIRY  99 

road,  past  Crecy,  a  trifle  monotonous,  perhaps, — it 
was  all  plain  till  you  got  to  Salt  Creek, — but 
possessing  advantages  for  so  large  a  drove.  We 
reached  an  out-station  of  the  Hopkins  Hill  property, 
then  owned  by  a  Tasmanian  proprietary,  and  man- 
aged by  "  a  fine  old  '  Scottish '  gentleman,  all  of  the 
olden  time."  We  put  the  cattle  into  a  small 
mustering  paddock,  and  retired  to  rest  with  great 
confidence  in  their  comfort  and  our  own.  About 
midnight  a  chorus  of  speculative  lowing  and  bellowing 
acquainted  us  with  the  fact  that  they  were  all  out. 
An  unnoticed  slip-rail  had  betrayed  us.  We  arose, 
but  could  do  nothing,  and  returned  to  our  blankets. 
Our  rest,  however,  had  been  effectually  broken. 

"  How  did  you  sleep,  Fred  ?  "  was  my  query  at 

"  Well,"  meditatively,  "  I've  had  a  quantity  of 
very  inferior  sleep"  was  his  rejoinder. 

At  Nareeb  Nareeb,  the  station  then  of  Messrs. 
Scott,  Gray,  and  Marr,  we,  by  permission,  camped 
for  the  purpose  of  separating  our  cattle,  either  by 
drafting  through  the  yard,  or  by  "  cutting  out "  on 
horseback.  After  a  brief  trial  of  the  latter  method, 
we  decided  for  the  stock-yard,  there  being  a  large 
and  well-planned  one  on  the  ground.  But  the  mud  ! 
— it  was  the  merry  month  of  May,  or  else  June  only, 
and  rain  had  fallen  in  sufficient  quantities  to  make 
millionaires  now  of  all  the  squatters  from  Ballarat  to 
Bourke.  We  put  on  our  oldest  clothes,  armed 
ourselves  with  sticks,  and  resolutely  faced  it.  What 
figures  we  were  at  nightfall  !  We  smothered  a 
few  head,  but  the  work  was  done.  Our  enter- 
tainers had  a  short  time  since  mustered  their  whole 


herd,  and  sold  them  in  Adelaide.  We  heard  some 
of  their  road  stories.  In  crossing  the  great  marshes 
which  lie  to  the  north-west  of  Mount  Gambier,  they 
had  to  carry  their  collie  dogs  on  horseback  before 
them  for  miles. 

We  had  nothing  quite  so  bad  as  this,  but  after 
we  parted  next  day,  Fred  for  "  The  Gums,"  and  in 
cheering  proximity  to  the  Mount  Rouse  stony  rises, 
the  best  fattening,  and  withal  best  sheltered,  winter 
country  in  the  west,  I  envied  him  his  luck.  I  had 
farther  to  go,  and  when  I  arrived  my  homestead  was 
situated  upon  an  island,  with  leagues  of  water  around 
it  in  every  direction. 

To  "  tail  "  or  herd  cattle  daily  in  such  weather 
was  impossible,  so  both  herds  were  turned  out,  and 
by  dint  of  reasonable  "  going  round  "  and  general 
supervision,  they  took  kindly  to  their  new  quarters. 

Fred,  I  remember,  told  me  that  his  cattle  went 
bodily  into  the  "  Mount  Rouse  stones,"  which  by  no 
means  belonged  to  his  run,  and  there  abode  all  the 
winter.  He  did  not  trouble  his  head  much  about 
them  till  the  spring,  when  they  came  in,  of  course,  as 
mustering  commenced.  There  were  no  fences  then, 
and  no  man  vexed  himself  about  such  a  trifle  as  a 
few  hundred  head  of  a  neighbour's  cattle  being  on 
his  run. 

On  our  way  we  returned  to  and  camped  oppo- 
site Hopkins  Hill  station  homestead.  A  neat 
cottage  in  those  days,  slightly  different  from  the 
present  mansion.  Thence  I  think  to  Mr.  Joseph 
Ware's  of  Minjah,  a  cattle  station  which  had  not 
been  very  long  bought  from  Messrs.  Plummer  and 
Dent,  who  had  purchased  from   the   Messrs.   Boldcn 

x  OLD  PORT  FAIRY  101 

Brothers.  Then  past  Smylie  and  Austin's  to 
Kangatong,  where  dwelt  Mr.  James  Dawson. 

We  remained  at  Kangatong  for  a  day,  so  as  to 
give  Joe  Burge  time  to  come  and  meet  us,  which  he 
did,  considerably  lightening  my  labours  and  anxieties 
thereby.  Thence  to  Dunmore,  which  was  "  as 
good  as  home."  The  next  day  saw  the  whole  lot 
safe  in  a  big  brush-yard,  which  Joe  Burge  had 
thoughtfully  prepared  for  their  reception,  thinking 
it  would  do  to  plant  with  potatoes  in  the  spring. 
And  a  capital  crop  there  was  ! 

I  always  think  that  the  years  intervening  between 
1846  and  the  diggings— that  is,  the  discovery  of 
gold  at  the  Turon,  in  New  South  Wales,  in  1850, 
and  at  Ballarat  in  185  1 — were  the  happiest  of  the 
pastoral  period.  There  was  a  good  and  improving 
market  for  all  kinds  of  stock.  Labour,  though  not 
over-plentiful,  was  sufficient  for  the  work  necessary 
to  be  done.  The  pastures  were  to  a  great  extent 
under-stocked,  so  that  there  were  reserves  of  grass 
which  enabled  the  squatter  to  contend  success- 
fully with  the  occasional  dry  seasons.  There  was 
inducement  to  moderate  enterprise,  without  allure- 
ment to  speculation.  The  settlement  of  the  country 
was  progressing  steadily.  Agricultural  and  pastoral 
occupation  moved  onward  in  lines  parallel  to  one 
another.  There  was  no  jostling  or  antagonism. 
Each  of  the  divisions  of  rural  labour  had  its  facilities 
for  legitimate  development.  There  were  none  of 
the  disturbing  forces  which  have  assumed  such 
dangerous  proportions  in  these  latter  days.  No 
studied  schemes  of  resistance  or  circumvention  were 
thought  of  by  the  squatter.      No  spiteful  agrarian 


invasion,  no  blackmailing,  no  sham  improvements 
were  possible  on  the  part  of  the  farmer. 

From  time  to  time  portions  of  land  specially- 
suited  for  agricultural  settlement  were  surveyed 
and  subdivided  by  the  Government.  On  these, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  when  sold  by  auction  at  some 
advance  upon  upset  price,  according  to  quality,  was 
a  purely  agricultural  population  settled.  It  had 
not  then  occurred  to  the  squatter,  hard  set  to  find 
money  for  his  necessary  expenditure  upon  labour 
and  buildings,  stock  and  implements,  to  pay  down 
£1  per  acre  or  more  for  ordinary  grazing  ground. 
The  farmer,  as  a  rule,  sold  him  flour  and  forage, 
supplied  some  of  the  needful  labour,  and  hardly 
more  came  into  competition  with  his  pastoral 
neighbour  than  if  he  had  lived  in  Essex  or  Kent. 

I  can  answer  in  my  own  person  for  the  friendly 
feeling  which  then  existed  between  the  two  great 
primitive  divisions  of  land-occupation.  The  Port 
Fairy  farmers  were  located  upon  two  large  blocks, 
the  Farnham  and  Belfast  surveys,  about  ten  miles  from 
the  nearest  and  not  more  than  fifty  from  the  more 
distant  squattages.  "  The  Grange,"  afterwards  known 
by  its  present  name  of  "  Hamilton,"  was  then  part  of 
a  station,  and  was  not  surveyed  and  subdivided  till 
some  years  after. 

The  majority  of  the  squatters  found  it  cheaper  to 
buy  flour  and  potatoes  from  the  farmers  than  to 
grow  them.  Most  of  us  grew  our  own  hay  and 
oats  ;  but  in  after  years  our  requirements  were 
largely  supplemented  from  Port  Fairy,  even  in  these 
easily  produced  crops.  In  return  the  farmers 
purchased  milch  cows,  as  well  as  steers  for  breaking 

x  OLD  PORT  FAIRY  103 

to  plough  and  team  ;  and  if  these,  with  the  increase 
of  the  female  cattle,  strayed  on  to  the  runs,  they  were 
always  recoverable  at  muster  time,  and  no  threat  of 
impounding  was  ever  made.  The  agricultural  area 
was  enlarged  when  needed.  To  this  no  squatter 
objected,  nor,  to  my  knowledge,  was  such  land 
purchased  by  other  than  bona  -fide  farmers.  I 
cannot  call  to  mind  any  feud  or  litigation  between 
squatter  and  farmer  having  its  inception  in  the  land 

Both  classes  met  alike  at  race  meetings  and 
agricultural  Shows  ;  and,  as  far  as  could  be  noticed, 
there  was  none  of  the  smouldering  feeling  of 
jealousy  regarding  the  prevalence  of  latifmidia, 
or  other  casus  belli,  which  has  of  late  years  blazed 
up  and  raged  so  furiously. 

Wages  were  not  high  in  those  days,  and  yet 
the  men  were  contented.  They  certainly  saved 
more  money  than  they  do  now.  They  managed  to 
acquire  stock,  and  after  taking  up  a  bit  of  unoccu- 
pied country,  became  squatters,  and  wealthy  ones 
too.  Joe  Burge  and  his  wife  received  ,£30  a  year. 
Old  Tom  had  10s.  a  week  ;  lodging  and  rations,  in 
which  matters,  at  that  time,  we  shared  much  alike, 
were  included. 

I  recall,  moreover,  instances  of  genuine  attachment 
as  exhibited  by  old  family  servants  to  the  children 
of  their  masters,  though  it  is  generally  asserted  that 
this  particular  kind  of  faithful  retainership  is  confined 
to  those  who  are  happy  enough  to  be  born  in  Europe. 

Mr.  John  Cox,  of  Werrongourt,  supplied  one 
instance,  at  least,  which  illustrates  the  feeling  so 
honourable  to  both  master  and  servant.     A  shepherd 


named  Buckley  had  saved  sufficient  money  in  his 
service  wherewith  to  purchase  a  small  flock  of  sheep. 
He  found  a  run  for  them  on  a  corner  of  the  Mount 
Rouse  country,  where  they  increased  to  the  respect- 
able number  of  14,000.  He  told  me  and  others 
that,  as  Mr.  Cox  had  in  the  first  instance  given  him 
facilities  for  investing  his  savings  profitably,  and  in 
every  way  taken  an  interest  in  his  welfare,  he  was 
resolved  to  leave  his  whole  property  to  "  Master 
Johnny,"  the  second  son,  then  a  fine  ingenuous  lad 
of  twelve  or  thirteen.  Buckley  was  a  bachelor,  I 
may  state,  and  had  presumably  no  other  claims 
upon  his  fortune. 

But,  about  a  year  before  his  death,  he  received 
intelligence  that  a  sister,  of  whom  he  had  not  heard 
since  his  arrival  in  Tasmania,  had  emigrated  to 
America,  and  was  still  living.  He  consulted  a 
mutual  friend,  and  was  told  that  Mr.  Cox  was  the 
last  man  who  would  wish,  or  indeed  allow  him  to 
neglect  his  own  kin.  "  I  must  leave  Master  Johnny 
something,"  he  said  ;  and  when  the  old  man  passed 
away,  and  his  property  was  chiefly  devised  to  his 
sister,  a  sum  of  ^1000  was  duly  bequeathed  to 
Mr.  John  Cox,  jun. 

Mr.  Cox  was  unfortunately  in  failing  health  at  that 
time.  The  station,  Werrongourt,  was  sold  to  Mr. 
Mooncy,  the  great  cattle-dealer,  for  the  magnificent  (?) 
price  of  £5  per  head  !  It  was  the  first  rise  in  cattle 
after  the  gold  of  185  1,  and  anything  over  ^3  per 
head  was  thought  a  high  figure.  Mr.  Cox,  however, 
was  anxious  to  visit  the  old  country,  chiefly  on 
account  of  his  health.  The  change  was  unavailing. 
He  died   on   the  voyage,  to  the  great    grief  of  the 

x  OLD  PORT  FAIRY  105 

district,  where  all  revered  him  as  a  high-minded,  hon- 
ourable country  gentleman.  He  was,  indeed,  a  worthy 
son  of  the  good  south  land,  a  staunch  friend,  a  true 
patriot,  and  as  a  magistrate  famed  for  the  unswerving 
justice  which  equally  regarded  rich  and  poor. 
Among  his  humbler  countrymen,  "  Mr.  Cox  said  it " 
was  sufficient  to  close  any  argument,  whatever  might 
be  the  interest  involved. 

"  Master  Johnny,"  some  years  after,  elected  to 
enter  the  German  army.  He  and  a  younger  brother 
fought  in  the  Franco-Prussian  war  ;  they  were  both 
wounded  at  Sedan,  where  their  mother,  an  Australian 
by  birth  {nee  Miss  Frances  Cox,  of  Hobartville), 
attended  them  till  their  recovery,  continuing  her 
unselfish  labours  by  acting  as  hospital  nurse  until 
the  end  of  the  war. 

The  brothers  were,  no  doubt,  promoted.  They 
were  in  the  cavalry,  as  became  Australians,  and 
most  probably  now,  as  Baron  and  Count  von  Coxe, 
are  adding  fresh  branches  to  a  wide-spreading  and 
generally  flourishing  family  tree. 

When  "  Master  Johnny,"  one  fresh  spring  morn- 
ing, rode  down  to  Squattlesea  Mere  from  Werrongourt, 
bringing  two  couples  of  draft  foxhounds  from  his 
father's  pack,  to  be  sent  to  an  intending  M.F.H.  in 
another  colony,  we  little  dreamed  of  the  ranks  in 
which  he  was  to  ride,  the  sport  in  which  he  was  to 
share,  ere  the  second  decade  should  have  passed  over 
our  heads. 



SQUATTLESEA  MERE  was  about  ten  miles  from  the 
coast,  and  equidistant  from  the  towns  of  Port  Fairy 
and  Portland,  the  latter  lying  about  thirty  miles  west- 
ward. My  first  visit  to  it  was  on  the  occasion  of  a 
sale  of  some  fat  cattle  to  Mr.  Henty  for  the  use  of 
the  whalers — who  were  then  still  extant.  Of  course 
there  were  plenty  of  bullocks  at  Muntham,  but  it 
was  hardly  worth  while  to  send  so  far  for  so  small 
a  lot.  I  was  ready  to  deliver,  and  not  indisposed  for 
the  trip  and  adventure  myself. 

So,  having  been  helped  off  the  run  by  Joe  Burge, 
I  started  with  my  beeves,  and  made  the  journey 
safely  to  the  slaughter  -  yards,  which  were  then 
a  few  miles  on  the  hither  side  of  the  town,  near 
the  beach.  The  road  lay  through  the  marshes  for 
five  or  six  miles,  then  through  the  stringy-bark 
forest,  whence  I  emerged  on  an  open  sandy  tract 
known  as  "  the  heath."  Such  land  is  not  uncommon 
in  the  vicinity  of  Portland  and  west  of  Port  Fairy  ; 
indeed,  the  greater  part  of  the  country  between 
Portland   and   the  wondrous   downs   of  the   Wannon 

chap,  xi  PORTLAND  BA  Y  107 

consists  of  this  undesirable  formation  alternately  with 
stringy-bark  forest. 

The  soil  upon  the  heath  is  pure  sand  of  a  white 
or  greyish  colour.  Small  lagoons,  thickly  covered 
with  dark-brown  reeds,  are  spread  over  the  surface  ;  it 
is  mostly  firm  riding  ground,  though  very  indifferent 
pasture.  Several  species  of  epacris  grow  there,  the 
pink  and  white  blossoms  of  which  were  gay  and 
even  brilliant  in  spring.  Open  as  a  plain,  and, 
apart  from  a  question  of  grass,  an  effective  contrast 
to  the  endless  eucalyptus.  A  few  miles  of  heath — 
the  forest  again — and  we  come  to  Darlot's  Creek, 
narrow,  but  running  deep  and  strong,  like  a  New 
Zealand  river. 

This  singular  stream  must  in  some  way  receive 
the  water  of  the  great  Eumeralla  marshes,  which, 
as  they  have  no  visible  outlet,  probably  filter 
through  the  lava  country,  from  which,  near  Lake 
Condah,  Darlot's  Creek  issues  without  previous 

Summer  and  winter  this  cheery  little  stream, 
from  twenty  to  fifty  feet  wide,  and  hardly  ever 
less  than  from  six  to  ten  feet  deep,  rushes  whirl- 
ing and  eddying  to  the  sea.  We  cross  at  a 
stone  causeway,  over  which  the  water  runs,  and  in 
another  mile  or  two  come  to  the  Fitzroy  River. 
This  is  a  true  Australian  watercourse,  and  has  the 
usual  abruptly  alternating  depth  of  channel.  Both 
streams  debouch  on  a  sandy  sea-beach,  a  few  miles 
from  Portland.  The  channel  mouths  are  continually 
shifting,  and  as  the  main  road  from  Port  Fairy 
then  crossed  them,  the  depth  of  water  was  often 
unpleasantly    altered,    to    the    manifest    danger     of 


travellers.  Many  a  misadventure  was  credited  to 
the  "  mouth  of  the  Fitzroy,"  and  more  than  one  poor 
fellow,  when  the  tide  was  high,  essaying  to  cross  with 
a  heavy  swag,  lost  the  number  of  his  mess.  The 
proper  thing  for  non-pedestrians  at  that  time  was  to 
ride  or  drive  some  distance  into  the  waves,  where  the 
depth  was  shallower  ;  but  there  were  said  to  be  quick- 
sands, in  which  horse  or  wheel  might  sink,  and,  with 
the  surf  breaking  over,  in  such  case  the  look-out  was 

Before  reaching  this  part  of  the  road,  at  an 
elevated  point  of  the  heath,  a  full  view  of  the  ocean 
burst  suddenly  on  my  view.  What  a  sight  it  was  ! 
A  world  of  forest  greenery  lay  north,  east,  and  west ; 
on  the  south  the  tumbling  billows  of  the  unbounded 
sea.  Far  as  eye  could  reach  was  the  wondrous 
plain  of  the  South  Pacific,  stretching  away  to  the 
farthest  range  of  vision,  where  it  was  lost  in  a  soft, 
shimmering  haze.  Did  I  clap  my  hands  and  shout 
"  Thalatta  !  Thalatta  !  "  like  the  author  of  Eothen  ? 
I  had  the  inclination  to  do  it,  I  know. 

In  the  distance,  lying  north-west,  were  the  cliffs 
and  noble  bay  of  Portland — not  a  very  grand  town., 
but  noteworthy  as  the  point  dappui  whence  those 
representative  Englishmen  and  distinguished  colonists, 
the  Hentys,  commenced  the  Anglo-Saxon  conquest 
of  Australia  Felix. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  these  gentlemen  ; 
and  the  longer  I  live,  the  stronger  becomes  my 
conviction  that  the  genuine  Englishman,  compacted 
as  he  is  of  diverse  races,  holding  the  strong  points  of 
each,  is  the  best  "  all-round  man  "  the  earth  affords. 
And  the  Hentys,  as  a  family,  have  demonstrated  my 

xi  PORTLAND  BA  Y  109 

proposition  perhaps  more  completely  than  any  other 
which  ever  landed  on  our  shores.  For,  consider 
what  manner  of  colonisers  they  were  !  Explorers, 
sailors,  whalers,  farmers,  squatters,  merchants,  poli- 
ticians (Mr.  William  Henty  was  chief  secretary  of 
Tasmania) — in  all  these  different  avocations  the 
brothers  were  of  approved  excellence.  Indeed,  each 
displayed  in  his  own  personality  an  aptitude  for  the 
whole  range  of  accomplishments. 

Stalwart  and  steadfast  were  they  in  body  and 
mind,  well  fitted  to  contend  with  the  rude  forces  of 
nature,  and  still  ruder  individuals,  among  which  their 
lot  was  chiefly  cast  in  those  days.  But  withal 
genial,  hilarious,  and  in  their  moments  of  relaxation 
prone  to  indulge  in  the  full  swing  of  those  high 
animal  spirits  which,  for  the  most  part,  accompany  a 
robust  bodily  and  mental  organisation. 

Always  familiar  with  the  great  industry  of  stock- 
breeding  both  in  Tasmania  and  their  new  home,  they 
imported,  from  their  earliest  occupation,  the  very 
choicest  stud  animals,  as  well  as  the  best  implements 
in  all  departments  of  husbandry.  "  Little  John," 
"  Wanderer,"  imported  thoroughbreds,  were  at  one 
time  in  their  possession.  Suffolks  and  Lincolns 
were  not  lacking  to  ensure  production  of  waggon 
horses,  and  in  general  effect  to  speed  the  plough. 
And  I  saw  at  Muntham  the  first  English  coaching 
sire  that  my  eyes  had  rested  upon  —  a  grand 
upstanding  bay  horse,  with  a  well-shaped  head,  lofty 
forehand,  and  clean,  fiat  legs.  I  remember  describ- 
ing him  to  a  horse-loving  friend  as  an  enlarged 
thoroughbred  in  appearance — a  description  which 
would    hold    good    of   some    of   the    better   sort   of 


coachers  of  the  present  day,  the  only  doubt  being 
whether,  having  regard  to  the  abnormal  shapes  of 
some  of  our  modern  racehorses,  the  coacher's  reputa- 
tion might  not  suffer  by  the  comparison. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  speak  Mr.  Edward  Henty 
was  at  Muntham — that  Australian  "  promised  land  " 
of  rolling  downs,  hill  and  dale,  all  equally  fertile,  well 
grassed,  well  watered  ;  favoured  as  to  climate,  soil, 
and  situation  ;  the  only  drawback  being  that  the 
great  grass  crop,  summer-ripened,  was  occasionally 
ignited  in  a  dry  autumn,  and,  like  a  prairie  fire, 
swept  all  before  it.  In  a  later  day  preparation  was 
made  for  such  a  contingency,  and  light  waggons, 
with  adequate  teams  known  as  the  "  fire-horses," 
kept  ready  to  start  at  a  moment's  notice  for  the 
warning  smoke-column.  Mr.  Frank  Henty  abode 
at  Merino  Downs,  the  name  of  which  explains  the 
early  attention  paid  by  him  to  the  chief  source  of 
Australian  wealth.  Mr.  Stephen  Henty  had  his 
residence  in  the  town  of  Portland,  where  at  that  time 
he  was  the  leading  merchant,  and,  excepting  Mr. 
Blair,  the  police  magistrate,  the  leading  inhabitant. 

No  more  delightful  country  home  ever  existed 
than  the  wide-verandahed  spacious  bungalow,  from 
the  windows  of  which  the  view  was  unbroken  of 
the  waters  of  the  bay.  A  well -trimmed  garden 
hedge  hid  the  intervening  street  and  slope  to  the 
beach  without  obstructing  the  view.  There,  if  any- 
where, was  to  be  found  true  earthly  happiness,  if  such 
can  ever  be  predicated  of  this  lower  world  and 
its  inhabitants. 

A  promising  family,  full  of  health,  spirits,  and 
intelligence  ;    parents  and  children  alike  overflowing 

xi  PORTLAND  BAY  ill 

with  kindness  ;  hospitality  unostentatiously  extended 
both  to  friends  and  acquaintances,  residents  and 
strangers ;  a  noble  property  gradually  and  surely 
increasing  in  value ;  family  affection  exhibited  in 
its  purest  form.      But 

It  is  written  on  the  rose — 
Alas  !  that  there,  decay 
Should  claim  from  love  a  part, — 
From  love  a  part ! 

Where  are  now  the  energetic,  kindly  husband 
and  father,  the  merry  boys  and  girls,  the  tender 
mother,  then  sheltered  and  united  in  that  most  happy 
home  ?  The  mournfullest  task  of  memory  lies  in 
realising  how  large  a  toll  is  yielded  in  a  few  fleeting 
years  to  the  unsparing  tax-gatherer  Death. 

Portland,  although  devoid  of  the  fertile  lands 
which  encompass  Port  Fairy  and  Warrnambool,  had 
yet  beauties  of  its  own.  Its  situation  was  romantic. 
Lofty  cliffs  rose  from  the  beach,  and  from  many  a 
picturesque  eminence  the  residences  of  the  towns- 
people looked  on  the  broad  ocean  and  the  peaceful 
waters  of  the  bay.  Still  were  visible  when  I  first 
saw  Portland  the  grass-grown  furrows  turned  by 
the  hand  of  Edward  Henty,  who  had  not  only 
accomplished  that  highly  important  feat — vitally 
necessary,  indeed,  in  a  settlement  poorly  provided 
with  grain — but  put  together  the  plough  with  which 
the  first  rite  to  Ceres  was  performed.  In  those 
days  a  deep-rutted,  miry  road  connected  the  port 
with  the  rich  lands  of  the  Wannon — forty  miles  of 
sore  affliction  to  the  driver  of  any  species  of  vehicle, 
bullock  drays  included.  Now  the  rail  has  simplified 
all  difficulties.      From  the  glorious  "  downs  country  " 


to     the    shore    is    but    a    journey    of   hours — from 
Hamilton  to  Melbourne  how  trifling  a  stage  ! 

What  if  the  gallant  explorer,  the  immortal  Major 
Mitchell,  could  return  and  look  upon  the  network 
of  farms,  the  metalled  roads,  the  railway  terminus, 
the  telegraph,  the  mail-coach  !  How  would  he  recall 
the  day  when,  with  his  toil-worn  party,  he  reached 
Portland,  and,  unaware  of  the  presence  there  of  way- 
farers other  than  themselves,  took  the  Hentys'  settle- 
ment for  one  of  an  escaped  gang  of  bushrangers  ! 
How  little  can  we  forecast  the  future  in  these  days 
of  rapid  development  and  almost  magical  national 
growth  !  Besides  the  Messrs.  Henty  the  principal 
Wannon  squatters  were  the  Winters  (George,  Samuel, 
and  Trevor),  men  of  remarkable  intellect ;  the 
Messrs.  Coldham  were  at  Grassdale,  where,  indeed, 
they  have  the  good  fortune  still  to  remain  ;  Lang 
and  Elms  were  at  Lyne,  near  neighbours  to  Mount 
Napier  ;  Acheson  Ffrench  at  Monivae,  near 
Hamilton  ;  John  Robertson  Nowlan,  who  rented 
Murndal  for  some  years  from  Mr.  Samuel  Pratt 
Winter.  He  afterwards  went  into  partnership  with 
Captain  Stanley  Carr,  an  ex-military  man  domiciled 
in  Silesia,  who  imported  Saxon  merino  sheep,  and 
had  a  very  proper  idea  of  the  "  coming  event "  in 
Australia — the  great  rise  and  development  of  the 
merino  interest.  Farther  on,  the  Hunters  (Alick, 
Jemmy,  and  latterly  Frank  and  Willie)  were  at 
Kalangadoo,  Mount  Gambier,  with  Willie  Mitchell, 
Evelyn  Sturt,  and  John  Meredith  as  next- 
door  neighbours.  Charles  Mackinnon  and  his 
partner  Watson — am  I  trenching  on  sacred  con- 
fidences when  I  allude  to  the  sobriquet  "  Jeeribong  "  ? 

xi  PORTLAND  BAY  113 

What  a  lot  of  splendid  fellows,  to  be  sure  !      All  the 

men    I    have   named   were  gentlemen  by  birth  and 

education.      It  may  be  imagined  what  a  jolly,  genial 

society  it  was,  what  a  luxurious  neighbourhood,  when 

a  few  miles'  ride  was  a  certain  find  for  culture,  good 

fellowship,  and  the  warmest  hospitality.      While  at 

the  race  meetings  at  Portland  and  Port  Fairy,  when 

these  joyous   comrades  amalgamated  confessedly  for 

enjoyment,  as  the  old  song  has  it — 

And  for  that  reason, 

And  for  a  season, 

We'll  be  merry  before  we  go, 

there  was  a  week's  revelry  fit  for  the  gods  on  high 

Not  only  from  across  the  Adelaide  border — for 
Mount  Gambier  was  on  the  farther  side — did  both 
knights  and  squires  wend  their  way  in  pilgrimage 
to  the  Port  Fairy  revels,  but  from  Trawalla  and 
Mount  Emu,  from  Warranbeen,  Ercildoune,  and 
Buninyong.  Adolphus  Goldsmith  from  Trawalla, 
William  Gottreaux  from  Lilaree,  Philip  Russell  from 
Carngham  (I  can  hear  him  now  ordering  his  gray 
colt's  legs  to  be  bandaged  the  night  he  rode  in), 
Charley  Lyon,  Compton  Ferrers,  Alick  Cuningham, 
Will  Wright.      Ah  ! 

We  were  a  gallant  company, 
Riding  o'er  land,  sailing  o'er  sea. 

•  •  •  ■  ♦ 

And  some  are  dead  and  some  are  gone, 
.     .     .     ay  di  mi — Alhama  ! 
And  some  are  robbers  on  the  hills, 
That  look  along  Epirus'  valleys. 

Well,  perhaps  not  exactly.      They  abide  on  those  hills 



which  overlook  the  winding  Thames,  and  in  the 
season  the  Serpentine  or  historic  Seine.  Any  robbery 
they  may  engage  in  is  getting  the  better  of  unwary 
brethren  at  pool,  or  picking  up  the  odds  on  the 
favourite  a  trifle  before  the  general  public  is  taken 
into  the  confidence  of  the  stable. 

It  is  hard  to  find  a  poet  who  expresses  your 
feelings  and  circumstances  with  precision.  Yet  even 
Byron's  friends  and  fellow-believers  in  Greek  inde- 
pendence have  hardly  had  a  more  complete  dispersion 
than  the  comrades  of  that  lost  "  Arcady  the  Blest." 

We  ought  to  have  made  the  most  of  those  days — 
of  the  time  which  came  "  before  the  gold."  We  never 
saw  their  like  again.  Then  we  tasted  true  happiness, 
if  such  ever  visits  this  lower  world.  Every  one  had 
hope,  encouragement,  adequate  stimulus  to  work, — 
hard  work  which  was  well  paid, — leading  to  enter- 
prise, which  year  by  year  fulfilled  the  promise  of 

Nobody  was  too  rich.  No  one  was  wealthy 
enough  to  live  in  Melbourne.  Each  man  had  to  be 
his  own  overseer  ;  had  to  live  at  home.  He  was, 
therefore,  friendly  and  genial  with  his  neighbours,  on 
whom  he  was  socially  dependent.  No  one  thought 
of  going  to  Europe,  or  selling  off  and  "  cutting  the 
confounded  colony,"  and  so  on.  No  !  there  we 
were,  adscripti  glebes  as  we  thought,  from  a  dozen  or 
so  to  a  score  of  years.  It  was  necessary  for  all  to 
make  the  best  of  it,  and  very  cheery  and  contented 
nearly  everybody  was. 

In  these  days  of  universal  fencing  it  seems  curious 
to  think  that  from  Portland  Bay  to  Geclong,  from 
Geelong  to   Melbourne,  was  there  never  a  fenced-in 

xi  PORTLAND  BAY  115 

estate  —  only  the  horse  and  bullock  paddocks. 
Tens  of  thousands  of  cattle  were  managed  and  con- 
trolled by  the  stockman — as  he  was  then  called — 
(stock-rider  came  later),  with,  perhaps,  an  assistant 
black  boy  or  white  urchin  of  some  sort.  It  was  held 
that  in  that  respect  the  cattlemen  had  the  best  of  it, 
as  one  good  stockman  with  occasional  aid  could  look 
after  two  or  three  thousand  head  of  cattle — none  of 
our  herds  were  over  this  number — whereas  every 
thousand  or  fifteen  hundred  sheep  needed  a  shepherd, 
great  loss  ensuing  if  the  labour  and  tendance  were 
not  provided. 

The  great  industries  of  Port  Fairy  were  agri- 
culture on  the  one  hand,  and  pastoral  on  the  other. 
The  rich  lands  which  lay  westward  of  Warrnambool 
were  gradually  sold,  always  after  survey  and  by 
auction,  having  been  subdivided  into  moderate-sized 
farms.  These  were  purchased  by  resident  farmers  or 
small  capitalists  who  desired  to  try  agriculture  for  an 
occupation.  There  was  a  good  market  for  produce, 
and  the  fame  of  the  Port  Fairy  wheat  crop,  as  well 
as  that  of  the  potato  harvest,  commenced  to  spread. 

Than  the  lands  on  the  banks  of  the  Merai, 
around  Warrnambool,  and  between  that  town  and 
Port  Fairy,  none  more  fertile  are  known  in  Australia. 
They  enjoy  the  conditions  of  deep,  rich  loam,  resting 
on  a  substratum  of  tufa  and  limestone,  with  perfect 
natural  drainage.  So  friable,  too,  as  to  be  ready  for 
the  plough  immediately  after  rain.  Apparently  of 
an  inexhaustible  fertility,  and  lying  near  the  sea, 
which  occasionally  sends  its  spray  over  the  wheat 
sheaves,  they  are  but  little  subject  to  frost.  The 
coast  showers  preserve  the  moisture  of  the  soil,  and, 


whether  for  grain,  roots,  or  grass,  prevent  the  dis- 
astrous desiccation  so  unhappily  common  in  the 
fields  and  pastures  of  the  interior. 

As  the  farmer  commenced  to  press  closely  upon 
the  pastoral  Crown  tenant,  a  certain  soreness  was 
engendered,  but  no  complaint  of  wrong-doing  on  the 
part  of  the  Government  followed.  The  squatters 
accepted  the  situation  ;  they  did  their  best  to  lighten 
the  difficulty.  Those  who  had  high-class  grazing  or 
arable  lands  bestirred  themselves  to  buy  as  much 
around  the  homestead  as  would  serve  to  make  a 
moderate  estate.  The  situation  and  climate  being 
undeniably  good,  they  argued  that  they  could  make 
as  much  out  of  a  few  thousand  acres  of  freehold 
as  formerly  from  the  whole  area  under  an  imperfect 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  when  the  dreadful  "  auction 
day"  arrived,  the  greater  portion  of  the  menaced 
squatters  thus  saved  themselves.  Men  sympathised 
with  them,  too,  and  did  not  bid  too  persistently 
against  the  former  Lord  of  the  Waste,  whose  day  of 
dominion  was  over. 

The  nearest  station  to  Port  Fairy  was  Aringa, 
the  property  of  Mr.  Ritchie.  It  was  only  distant 
about  four  miles.  Partly  arable  land,  but  possessing 
more  "  stony  rises  "  and  oak  ridges,  it  was  capable  of 
growing  excellent  grass,  but  not  likely  to  need  the 

The  proprietor  made  an  excellent  survey  of  his 
run,  carefully  excluding  the  more  tempting  agricultural 
portions.  And  so  judiciously  did  he  purchase  at 
auction  that  he  found  himself  the  owner  of  twelve 
or  fourteen   thousand   acres  of  splendid    grass    land, 

xi  PORTLAND  BAY  117 

without  a  road  through  it,  and  therefore  capable  of 
being  enclosed  within  a  ring  fence.  The  average  of 
price  was,  I  fancy,  below  25s.  per  acre.  After  fencing 
this  truly  valuable  freehold,  Mr.  Ritchie  discovered 
that  he  could  let  it  for  such  a  yearly  rental  as  would 
enable  him  to  live  handsomely  without  the  responsi- 
bility of  stock.  Mr.  Edols,  of  Geelong,  was,  I  think, 
the  first  tenant  on  a  five  years'  lease,  and  ever  since 
that  day  Aringa  has  been  a  highly  productive  estate, 
covered  with  a  matted  sward  of  clover  and  rye-grass, 
adapted  either  for  sheep  or  cattle,  equally  profitable 
to  farm  or  to  let. 

Yambuk,  formerly  the  property  of  Lieutenant 
Andrew  Baxter,  a  retired  military  officer,  did  not 
come  off  quite  so  well.  But  I  fancy  the  present 
proprietor,  Mr.  Suter,  who  has  lived  there  since  1854, 
or  thereabouts,  finds  that  he  has  a  freehold  sufficient 
for  all  ordinary  wants. 

"  Tarrone,"  lying  to  the  eastward,  was  not  distant 
more  than  ten  or  twelve  miles  from  Port  Fairy.  It 
was  occupied  in  those  early  days  by  another  army 
man,  Lieutenant  Chamberlain.  Both  of  the  ex- 
militaires  made  exceptionally  good  squatters,  refuting 
the  general  experience  which  does  not  assign  a 
high  rank  as  successful  colonists  to  soldiers.  With 
enormous  reed-beds  and  marshes,  and  a  certain  pro- 
portion of  stony  rises  and  well-grassed  open  forest, 
Tarrone  was  a  model  cattle  run,  carrying  generally 
between  two  and  three  thousand  head  of  cattle.  It 
was  a  splendid  tract  of  fattening  country,  and  some 
of  the  grandest  drafts  of  bullocks  that  ever  left  the 
West  bore  the  Tarrone  brand,  "  KB."  It  had 
formerly  belonged  to  Messrs.  Kilgour  and   Besnard, 


but  for  alleged  doing  to  death  of  aboriginals  the 
license  of  these  gentlemen  had  been  withdrawn.  It 
was  subsequently  granted  to  Mr.  Chamberlain.  The 
paternal  Government  of  New  South  Wales,  until  late 
years,  kept  the  whip-hand  of  the  squatters  by  reason 
of  its  power  to  withhold  the  only  title  by  which  we 
held  our  lands,  and  occasionally,  as  in  the  case 
referred  to,  the  power  was  exercised.  This  run  was 
also  assailed  by  the  auctioneer's  hammer,  but  being 
strictly  non-agricultural  land,  it  retained  virtually  its 
integrity  as  a  grazing  estate.  "  Tarrone "  was  the 
station  which  suffered  most  on  that  day  of  fiery 
wrath,  long  remembered  as  "  Black  Thursday."  All 
did  so  more  or  less  ;  but  Mr.  Chamberlain,  who  then 
lived  there,  lost  fences  and  homestead,  house  and 
furniture,  his  household  escaping  barely  with  their 
lives.  For  weeks  previously  the  summer  weather 
had  been  hot  and  dry.  There  was,  for  a  wonder, 
a  cessation  of  the  coast  showers.  The  fated  morning 
was  abnormal — sultry  and  breezeless.  The  vaporous 
sky  became  lurid,  darksome — awful.  More  than  one 
terrified  spectator  believed  that  the  Last  Day  had 
come,  and  not  altogether  without  reason.  The  whole 
colony  of  Victoria  was  on  fire  at  the  same  time,  from 
the  western  coast  to  the  eastern  range  of  the 
Australian  Alps.  Farms  and  stations  were  burning 
at  Port  Fairy  and  Portland.  The  wife  and  children 
of  a  shepherd  on  the  Upper  Plenty  rivulet,  eastward 
of  Melbourne,  were  burned  to  death,  nearly  three 
hundred  miles  in  another  direction.  Far  out  to  sea 
passengers  viewed  with  wonder  and  alarm  a  dense 
black  cloud  overhanging  the  coast-line  like  a  pall, 
such  as  may  have  shrouded  buried  Pompeii  when  the 

xi  PORTLAND  BAY  119 

volcano  heaved  its  fiery  flood.  Far  from  land 
showers  of  ashes  fell  upon  the  decks  of  approaching 

Though  not  without  expectation  of  a  larger  bush- 
fire  than  usual,  we  were  chiefly  unprepared  as  the 
flame-wave  rolled  in  over  grass  and  forest  from  the 
north.  The  fire  travelled  fast  on  the  preceding  night, 
and  the  north-east  wind  rising  to  a  gale  towards  mid- 
day, the  march  of  the  Destroyer  waxed  resistless  and 
overpowering.  Mr.  Chamberlain  told  us  afterwards 
that,  feeling  indisposed  for  exertion,  and  unaware  of 
actual  danger,  he  was  lying  down  reading  Vanity 
Fair.  So  enthralled  was  he  by  Becky  Sharp's 
fascinations  that  he  delayed  going  out  to  reconnoitre, 
though  uneasily  conscious  that  the  smoke-clouds 
were  thickening. 

He  went  at  length  on  foot.  Then  he  saw,  to 
his  astonishment,  a  wall  of  fire  approaching  the 
homestead  with  appalling  rapidity.  He  turned 
and  fled  for  his  life,  but  had  barely  time  to  warn  the 
station  hands  when  the  devouring  element  swept  after. 
It  was  idle  to  resist  in  any  ordinary  method.  The 
flames  seemed  to  leap  from  the  tree  tops,  as  they  scaled 
the  trunks,  then  the  higher  branches,  and  were  borne 
on  loose  fragments  of  bark  far  ahead  of  the  line  of  fire. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  each  fence,  building,  and 
shed  of  a  well-improved  homestead  was  in  flames. 
So  great  was  the  heat  that  after  the  first  flight  of 
the  inmates  from  the  dwelling-house,  it  was  impossible 
to  re-enter.  Nothing  of  the  contents  was  saved  but 
a  desk  and  a  picture,  while  the  household  stood  awe- 
stricken  in  a  plot  of  garden  vegetation,  moistening 
their   parched    lips    from    time    to    time,   suffocating 

120  OLD  MELBOURNE  MEMORIES        chap,  xi 

with  heat  and  smoke,  and  holding  much  doubt  as  to 
their  ultimate  safety.  As  they  gazed  around  they 
could  see  the  wild  birds  dropping  dead  from  the 
forest  trees,  the  kangaroos  leaping  past  with  singed 
and  burning  fur,  while  cattle,  bellowing  with  fear  and 
astonishment,  dashed  wildly  to  the  river-bank,  to 
plunge  into  the  deeper  pools. 

At  Dunmore  a  better  look-out  had  been  kept. 
By  the  united  efforts  of  the  establishment  the 
flames  were  arrested  on  the  very  verge  of  the  home- 
stead ;  but  so  close  and  desperate  was  the  contest 
that  the  garden  gate  was  burned,  and  Mr.  Macknight 
was  carried  indoors  insensible,  having  fainted  from 
the  severity  of  the  protracted  struggle.  Had  he  died 
it  would  not  have  been  the  only  instance  on  record 
of  the  danger  of  over-exertion  with  the  thermo- 
meter at  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  degrees 
of  Fahrenheit  in  the  sun. 

We  at  Squattlesea  Mere  were  more  lucky  than 
our  neighbours,  inasmuch  as  the  fire  took  a  turn 
southward,  behind  Dunmore,  and  continued  its  de- 
vastating progress  through  the  heaths  and  scrubs 
which  lay  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Shaw.  It  was 
in  a  manner  shunted  away  from  our  homestead  by  the 
region  of  marsh  country  which  stretched  around 
and  beyond  it. 



WHAT  tales  came  in  from  far  and  near  of  ruin  and 
disaster — farms  and  stations,  huts  and  houses,  rich 
and  poor  ! — all  had  equally  suffered  in  the  Great 
Fire,  long  remembered  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  land.  However,  a  bush  fire  is  not  so 
bad  as  a  drought.  A  certain  destruction  of  pasture 
and  property  takes  place,  but  there  is  not  the  wide- 
spread devastation  among  the  flocks  and  herds 
caused  by  a  dry  season.  Heavy  rain  set  in  a 
short  time  afterwards,  in  our  district  at  any  rate. 
The  burned  pastures  were  soon  emerald-green,  and 
Mr.  Chamberlain,  who  had  been  compelled  to  flee  to 
Port  Fairy  homeless,  and  there  abide  till  a  cottage 
was  built  at  Tarrone,  made  sale  of  a  thousand  head 
of  fat  cattle  in  one  draft  before  the  year  was  out. 

If  the  system  of  moderate  alienation  of  Crown 
lands  then  prevalent  could  have  been  carried  out  in 
after  years — viz.  the  disposing  of  agricultural  areas 
from  time  to  time,  as  the  demand  increased — no 
great  harm  would  have  accrued  to  the  pastoral 
interest,  and   the   legitimate   wants   of   the    farmers 


would  have  been  fully  supplied.  The  owners  of 
the  stations  referred  to,  as  the  wave  of  population 
approached,  chiefly  applied  themselves  to  secure  the 
purely  pastoral  portions  of  the  runs,  leaving  the 
arable  land  for  its  legitimate  occupiers.  No  squatter 
was  then  suddenly  ruined,  while  all  intending  farmers 
were  satisfied.  Good  feeling  was  maintained,  as  each 
class  of  producers  recognised  the  necessity  for  com- 
promise, when  the  mixed  occupation  had  become  a 
fact.  It  was  far  otherwise  when  the  whole  land  lay 
open  to  the  selector,  who  was  thus  enabled  to  enter 
at  will  into  lands  which  other  men's  labour  had 
rendered  valuable,  or  to  exact  a  price  for  refraining. 

In  good  sooth,  the  pioneer  squatter  of  that  day 
had  many  and  divers  foes  to  contend  with.  Having 
done  battle  with  one  army  of  Philistines,  another 
straightway  appeared  from  an  unexpected  quarter. 
We  had  had  trouble  with  our  aboriginals  :  a  canine 
"  early  Australian,"  the  dingo,  had  likewise  disturbed 
our  rest.  He  used  to  eat  calves,  with  perhaps  an 
occasional  foal,  so  we  waged  war  against  him. 
We  were  not  up  to  strychnine  in  those  days.  The 
first  letter  I  saw  in  print  on  the  subject  was  from 
the  ill-fated  Horace  Wills,  whose  sheep  had  been 
suffering  badly  at  the  time.  He  had  come  across 
the  panacea  somewhere,  and  lost  no  time  in  re- 
commending it  to  his  brother  squatters.  With  the 
help  of  our  kangaroo  dogs,  and  an  occasional 
murder  of  puppies,  we  pretty  well  cleared  them  out. 
As  cattlemen,  taking  a  selfish  view  of  the  case,  we 
need  not  have  been  so  enthusiastic.  Though  he 
killed  an  occasional  calf,  the  wild  hound  did  good 
service   in   keeping  down   the  kangaroo,  which,  after 

xii  GRASMERE  123 

his    extinction,    proved    a   far    more   expensive   and 
formidable  antagonist. 

We  had  more  than  once  seen  a  small  pack  of 
dingoes  surrounding  an  "  old  man  kangaroo "  in 
the  winter  time,  when  from  weight  and  the  soft 
nature  of  the  ground  he  is  unable  to  run  fast. 
They  also  kill  the  "  joeys  "  or  young  ones,  when  too 
small  to  run  independently,  though  not  to  feed.  I 
saw  this  exemplified  on  one  occasion  when  returning 
late  from  a  day's  stock-riding.  There  was  still  light 
enough  to  distinguish  surrounding  objects,  when  a 
doe  kangaroo  crossed  the  track  in  front  of  me, 
hard  pressed  by  a  red  dog  close  at  her  haunches. 
At  first  I  took  the  pursuer  to  be  a  kangaroo  dog, 
but  seeing  at  a  second  glance  that  it  was  a  dingo, 
I  pulled  up  to  watch  the  hunt.  The  forest  was 
clear ;  rather  to  my  surprise  he  gained  upon  her, 
and,  springing  forward,  nearly  secured  a  hold.  She 
just  got  free,  and  not  till  then  did  she  rid  herself  of 
the  burden  with  which  she  was  handicapped,  and 
without  which  the  dog  could  not  have  "  seen  the 
way  she  went,"  as  the  stock-riders  say. 

"  Needs  must  when  the  devil  drives  "  is  an  ancient 
proverb,  and  some  idea  of  corresponding  force  must 
have  passed  through  her  marsupial  mind  as  she  cast 
forth  from  her  pouch  poor  "Joey" — a  good-sized 
youngster  of  more  than  a  month  old.  He  recog- 
nised the  situation,  for  he  scudded  away  with  all 
his  might,  but  was  caught  and  killed  by  "  Br'er " 
Dingo  before  I  could  interfere,  his  mother  sitting  up, 
a  few  yards  off,  making  a  curious  sound  indicative 
of  wrath  and  fear.  I  somewhat  unfairly  deprived 
dingo  of  his  supper  by  placing  it  carefully  out  of  his 


reach  in  a  tree  ;  but  in  the  kangaroo  battues  which 
ensued,  it  more  than  once  occurred  to  rne  that  I 
was  interfering  with  a  natural  law,  of  which  I  did 
not  then  foresee  the  consequences. 

On  the  eastern  side  of  Port  Fairy  lay  Grasmere, 
which  on  my  first  introduction  to  the  district,  in 
1843,  was  the  property  of  the  Messrs.  Bolden 
Brothers.  Pleasantly  situated  on  the  banks  of  the 
Merai,  its  limestone  slopes  formed  beautiful  paddocks 
for  the  blue-blooded  Bates  shorthorns,  of  which  these 
gentlemen  were,  at  that  time,  the  sole  Australian 
proprietors.  They  had  also  a  share  in  the  Merang 
and  Moodiwarra  runs  jointly  with  Messrs.  Farie 
and  Rodger.  It  was,  however,  arranged  that  they 
should  remove  their  cattle  within  a  certain  time, 
and,  I  think,  early  in  1 844  the  arrangement  was 
carried  out.  These  enterprising  and  distinguished 
colonists  also  owned  Minjah,  then  known  as  "Bolden's 
sheep  station,"  now  Mr.  Joseph  Ware's  magnificent 
freehold  estate. 

A  considerable  sum  of  money  for  those  days  had 
been  spent,  as  early  as  1843,  at  Grasmere,  when  the 
Rev.  John  Bolden  and  I  rode  in  there,  having  been 
piloted  from  the  "  lower  station,"  where  we  had 
spent  the  previous  night,  by  a  grizzled  old  stock- 
rider hight  Jack  Keighran.  It  was  pitch  dark,  and 
I  was  glad  to  hear  the  kangaroo  dogs  set  up  their 
chorus,  and  to  know  that  we  were  at  home.  Messrs. 
Lemuel  and  Armyne  Bolden  were  then  the  resident 

In  the  morning  I  was  able  to  look  around  at  my 
leisure,  and  as  I  had  just  become  inoculated  with 
the   shorthorn  complaint,  which  I  have  never  wholly 

xii  GRASMERE  125 

lost,  I  had  a  treat.  The  paddocks,  in  size  from 
fifty  to  two  hundred  acres,  were  securely  enclosed 
with  three-rail  fences,  and  were  well  grassed,  watered, 
and  sheltered. 

I  have  never  ceased  to  regret  that  the  low  prices 
which  ruled  then  and  for  several  years  afterwards, 
coupled  with  the  failure  of  a  well-considered  experi- 
ment in  shipping  salt  beef  in  tierces  from  Melbourne, 
should  have  caused  the  breaking  up  of  that  model 
stud  farm,  the  dispersion  of  a  priceless  shorthorn 
tribe.  I  had  been  previously  introduced  to  "  Lady 
Vane,"  a  granddaughter  of  "  Second  Hubback,"  and 
her  inestimable  calf  "  Young  Mussulman,"  at  Heidel- 
berg. Here  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  them 
again,  if  not  on  their  native  heath,  still  in  pastures 
befitting  their  high  lineage  and  aristocratic  position. 
Also  a  former  daughter  of  Lady  Vane  and  the  Duke 
of  Northumberland.  There  grazed  the  imported 
cows  Lady  and  Matilda ;  the  imported  Bates  bulls 
Fawdon,  Tommy  Bates,  Pagan,  and  Mahomet. 
Besides  these  a  score  or  more  of  Circular  Head 
shorthorn  cows,  then  perhaps  the  purest  cattle  which 
the  colony  could  furnish. 

No  pains  or  expense  were  spared  in  the  keep 
and  rearing  of  these  valuable — nay  invaluable  cattle 
— for  which,  indeed,  high  prices,  for  that  period, 
had  been  paid  in  England.  Everything  seemed  to 
promise  well  for  the  enterprise — so  incalculably 
advantageous,  in  time  to  come,  to  the  herds  of 
Australia.  And  yet  ere  the  year  had  rolled  round 
the  whole  establishment  had  been  disposed  of  to  the 
Messrs.  Manifold.  The  bulk  of  the  herd  cattle  went 
to    Messrs.    John     and     Peter     Manifold,    of    Lake 


Purrumbect,  with  a  proportion  of  the  bulls.  The 
shorthorns  were  purchased  by  the  late  Mr.  Thomas 
Manifold,  who  for  some  years  after  made  Grasmere 
his  residence.  In  the  Spring  Valley,  a  lovely 
natural  meadow,  were  located  a  lot  of  beautiful 
heifers,  the  progeny  of  picked  "  H  over  5  "  cows 
(the  Hawdon  brand),  and  then  the  best  bred  herd  in 
New  South  Wales. 

I  was  present  at  the  purchase  of  Minjah  from 
the  Messrs.  Bolden  by  Mr.  Plummer,  of  the  firm  of 
Plummer  and  Dent,  which  took  place  in  1843. 
With  him  came  Mr.  Richard  Sutton,  as  amicus 
curice,  in  the  interest  of  Mr.  Plummer,  who  was  a 
newly-arrived  Englishman — verdant  as  to  colonial 
investments.  There  was  a  certain  amount  of  argu- 
ment ;  but  finally  Minjah  was  sold  with  fifty  head 
of  Spring  Valley  heifers  and  a  young  bull,  the  price, 
I  think,  being  £5  per  head  for  the  heifers,  £50  for 
the  bull,  and  the  station  given  in.  This  was  the 
origin  of  the  famous  Minjah  herd.  Grasmere  and 
Spring  Valley,  as  also  the  run  of  Messrs.  Strong  and 
Foster,  were  subsequently  "  cut  up  "  and  sold.  They 
were  too  near  the  town  of  Warrnambool  to  escape 
that  fate.  Mr.  Manifold  saved  part  of  his  run,  but 
Messrs.  Strong  and  Foster  were  less  fortunate,  losing 
nearly  the  whole  of  "  St.  Mary's."  It  was  not  sold, 
I  think,  until  the  gold  year,  185  1,  which  accounted 
for  its  wholesale  annexation.  This  is  the  only  in- 
stance I  can  recall  in  that  district  of  the  proprietor 
losing  his  run  in  its  entirety.  The  land,  however, 
was  exceptionally  good,  and  unmixed  with  ordinary 
pastoral  country. 

The  Messrs.  Allan  Brothers — John,  William,  and 

xii  CRASMERE  127 

Henry — held  Tooram,  and  the  country  generally 
on  the  east  bank  of  the  Hopkins,  where  that  river 
flows  into  the  sea.  It  was  a  picturesque  place, 
having  a  fine  elevated  site,  and  overlooking  the 
broad,  beautiful  stream  not  far  from  its  mouth.  I 
thought  they  should  have  called  it  "Allan  Water,"  but 
apparently  it  had  not  so  occurred  to  them.  The 
country  was  more  romantic  than  profitable,  it  was 
said,  in  those  days,  being  only  moderately  fattening, 
and  wonder  was  often  expressed  that,  having  the 
rich  western  country  all  before  them  when  they 
arrived  in  1 841,  or  thereabouts,  they  did  not  make  a 
better  choice.  But  pioneers  and  explorers  are  often 
contented  with  country  inferior  to  that  which  is 
picked  up  by  those  who  come  after. 

The  real  secret  is  that  explorers  are  far  more 
interested  in  the  enterprise  and  adventure  than  in 
the  promised  land  which  should  be  the  reward  of 
their  labours.  They  delight  in  the  wilderness,  and 
often  undervalue  Canaan.  No  spot  could  have  been 
more  suitably  situated  than  the  locale  the  Messrs. 
Allan  selected  for  ministering  to  such  tastes. 

On  the  south  was  the  coast-line,  stretching  away 
to  far  Cape  Otway.  On  that  side  they  had  no 
neighbours,  and  Mr.  John  Allan,  who  was  an  intrepid 
bushman,  made  hunting  and  exploring  excursions  in 
that  direction.  I  paid  them  a  visit  in  the  early 
part  of  1844.  I  regarded  it  as  a  perfectly  lovely 
place,  with  all  kinds  of  Robinson  Crusoe  possibilities. 
Wrecks,  savages,  pathless  woods,  an  island  solitude 
—  it  was  on  the  road  to  nowhere  ;  nothing  was 
wanting  to  enable  the  possessors  to  enjoy  perfect 
felicity.      The  romantic  solitude  has,  however,  of  late 


years  been  invaded  by  a  cheese-factory.  No  doubt 
it  supports  a  population,  but  the  charm  of  the 
frowning,  surf- beaten  headland  looking  over  the 
majestic,  limitless  ocean — of  the  broad  reaches  of  the 
reed-fringed  river — of  the  south-eastern  trail  leading 
into  "  a  waste  land  where  no  one  comes,  or  hath 
come  since  the  making  of  the  world  " — must  be  fled 
for  ever. 

"  St.  Ruth's "  was  the  name  given  to  a  tract  of 
country  which  joined  Squattlesea  Mere  on  the 
western  boundary.  I  believe  the  name  and  the 
reputation  of  the  district  sold  the  place  more  than 
once,  which  was  hard  upon  the  purchasers,  for  it 
was  one  of  the  worst  runs  in  Australia.  It  com- 
prised a  few  decent  limestone  ridges — with  some 
passable  flats,  but  the  "  balance "  was  scrub,  fern, 
swamp,  stringy-bark  forest,  and  heath.  Considering 
it  lay  in  a  good  district,  and  enjoyed  a  fine  climate, 
it  was  astonishing  how  it  contrived  to  be  so  bad. 
If  it  did  not  ruin  everybody  that  was  ever  connected 
with  it,  it  was  because  they  had  no  money  to  lose,  or 
that  exceptional  amount  of  acuteness  which  enabled 
them  to  dodge  hard  fortune  by  passing  it  on. 

It  was  taken  up,  soon  after  our  performance  in 
that  line,  by  Messrs.  Cay  and  Kaye,  sometimes 
called  English  and  Scotch  Kay.  The  former  of  these 
gentlemen,  Mr.  Robert  Cay,  was  "  shown  "  the  run 
by  the  Yambuk  people,  when  he  rode  over  a  very 
small  bit  of  it,  and,  going  back  to  his  homestead  on 
the  Lodden,  sent  a  trustworthy  man  up  with  two 
or  three  hundred  head  of  cattle,  who  formally 
occupied  it. 

A  hut  and  yard  were  built — the  cattle  broken  in, 

xii  GRASMERE  129 

more  or  less — and  the  occupation  was  complete. 
A  year  or  two  after  Mr.  Cay  sold  out  to  Mr. 
Adolphus  Goldsmith,  of  Trawalla,  for  a  reasonable 
price,  the  cattle  to  be  taken  by  book-muster.  Mr. 
Goldsmith  had  a  herd  at  Trawalla,  which  was  being 
encroached  upon  by  the  sheep.  He  required  room, 
and  bought  this  curiously  unprofitable  place  to  put 
them  on.  The  Port  Fairy  district,  I  should  say, 
had  a  great  reputation  ;  so  had  the  adjoining  runs. 
Mr.  Goldsmith  could  not  imagine  that  a  run  so  near 
Tarrone,  Yambuk,  and  Dunmore  could  be  so  very 
bad.  Buyer  and  seller  rode  over  it  together.  At 
the  end  of  the  day  Mr.  Cay  said,  "  Look  here,  old 
fellow  !  I  never  saw  half  as  much  of  the  run  before. 
I  had  no  idea  it  was  such  an  infernal  hole,  I  give 
you  my  word.  If  you  like  you  can  throw  up  your 
bargain  ! " 

"Oh  no!"  quoth  Dolly,  "I'll  stick  to  it.  It 
will  answer  my  purpose." 

The  end  of  it  was  that  Mr.  Cunningham,  as 
overseer,  came  down  in  charge  of  five  or  six  hundred 
well-bred  cattle,  which  were  turned  out  at  St.  Ruth's 
after  a  reasonable  "  tailing,"  and  presently  were  all 
over  the  district.  Mr.  Cunningham,  as  I  have  before 
stated,  was  one  of  the  most  energetic  men  possible, 
but  he  failed  to  make  St.  Ruth's  a  payable  specula- 
tion. The  cattle  never  fattened ;  they  became 
wild  ;  they  could  never  be  mustered  with  certainty  ; 
they  furnished  none  of  the  pleasing  results  with 
which  cattle  in  a  crack  district  are  generally 

Eventually  Mr.  Goldsmith  lost  patience,  and  sold 
this  valuable  property  to  a  former  manager  of  his 



own  —  Mr.  Hatsell  Garrard.  This  gentleman  had 
accompanied  Mr.  Goldsmith  from  England,  and,  it 
was  said,  had  chosen  for  him  the  celebrated  "  Corn- 
borough,"  a  son  of  Tramp,  a  grandson  of  Whalebone, 
and  one  of  the  grandest  horses  that  ever  looked 
through  a  bridle.  A  good  judge  of  stock,  both 
in  England  and  Australia,  how  Mr.  Garrard  came 
to  buy  such  a  place  is  "  one  of  the  mysteries." 
The  terms  were  easy,  probably,  and  the  price  tempt- 
ing ;  he  thought  "  it  couldn't  hurt  at  the  price." 
The  homestead,  too  (Mr.  Cunningham  was  a  great 
improver),  was  now  very  comfortable.  That  and 
the  name  together  did  it. 

Mr.  Garrard,  who  was  a  most  genial,  jolly,  but 
withal  tolerably  shrewd  old  boy,  kept  the  run  for 
a  year  or  two,  just  selling  cattle  enough  to  pay  his 
way,  when  he  dropped  on  a  chance  to  "  unload  "  and 
make  a  sale  to  Messrs.  Moutray  and  Peyton. 

The  former,  like  the  seller,  had  abounding 
experience,  had  lived  on  an  adjoining  run,  was 
quite  capable  of  managing  his  own  affairs,  yet  lie 
went  into  it  with  his  eyes  open.  His  only  excuse 
was,  that  store  cattle  were  worth  £4  and  ^5  a  head 
"  after  the  gold,"  and  he  thought  he  saw  his  way. 
His  partner,  Mr.  Peyton,  was  a  young  Englishman 
of  good  family,  vigorous  and  ardent,  just  the  man 
to  succeed  in  Australia,  one  would  have  thought. 
He  was  told  exactly  and  truly  by  his  friends  all  the 
bad  points  of  the  run  ;  but  it  was  difficult  in  that 
day  of  high  prices  to  find  an  investment  for  two 
or  three  thousand  pounds,  so  he,  being  anxious  to 
start,  made  the  plunge.  In  a  couple  of  years 
the     partnership     was     dissolved,    Moutray     having 

xii  GRASMERE  131 

saved  some  of  his  money,  and  Peyton  having  lost 
every  shilling. 

They  sold  to  Mr.  Doughty,  who  had  formerly 
owned  a  sheep  station  near  Mount  Gambier.  He 
was  a  married  man,  and  preferred,  for  some  reasons, 
the  Port  Fairy  district  to  live  in.  He  was  economi- 
cal, active,  a  famous  horseman,  and  a  good  manager. 
He  tried  "  all  he  knew,"  but  was  beaten  in  a  little 
more  than  a  year,  and  "  gave  it  best."  I  heard  of 
other  purchasers,  but  about  that  time  I  severed  my 
connection  with  the  district  and  followed  the  fortune 
of  St.  Ruth's  no  further.  Probably,  if  cleared, 
drained,  laid  down  in  grasses  at  the  rate  of  £\o 
per  acre,  fenced  and  subdivided,  it  might,  under  the 
weeping  western  skies,  produce  good  pasture.  But 
it  always  was  an  unlucky  spot. 

In  the  strongest  contradistinction  to  St.  Ruth's — 
a  regular  man-trap,  and  as  pecuniarily  fatal  as  if 
specially  created  for  Murad  the  Unlucky — was  the 
station  generally  known  as  "  Blackfellows'  Creek," 
lying  east  of  Eumeralla.  By  the  way,  the  original 
pathfinders  of  Port  Fairy  had  a  pretty  fancy  in 
the  naming  of  their  watercourses.  There  were  Snaky 
Creek,  Breakfast  Creek,  and,  of  course,  Deep  Creek 
and  Sandy  Creek.  Now,  this  Blackfellows'  Creek 
was  as  exceptionally  good  a  station  as  St.  Ruth's 
was  "t'other  way  on."  It  was  proverbially  and 
eminently  a  fattening  run  ;  and  on  the  principle 
"who  drives  fat  oxen  should  himself  be  fat,"  its 
owner,  Mr.  William  Carmichael,  was,  and  always  had 
been,  far  and  away  the  fattest  man  in  the  district. 



BLACKFELLOWS'  Creek,  or  "  Harton  Hills,"  as  the 
proprietor  caused  it  to  be  designated  when  it  com- 
menced to  acquire  fame  and  reputation,  was  a 
striking  example  of  the  well-known  faith  held  by- 
experienced  pastoralists,  that  a  good  run  will 
manage  itself,  and  make  lots  of  money  for  its  owner, 
whereas  no  amount  of  management  will  cause  much 
difference  in  the  profits  or  losses  of  a  bad  run. 

Blackfellows'  Creek  was  proverbially  managed 
"  anyhow."  There  was  a  large  herd  of  cattle  upon 
it,  which  certainly  enjoyed  about  the  smallest 
amount  of  supervision  of  any  cattle  in  the  world,  not 
being  Red  River  bisons,  Chillingham  wild  cattle,  or 
the  Bos  primigenins.  Twice  a  year  they  were 
mustered  to  brand  ;  a  little  oftcner,  perhaps,  to  get 
out  the  fat  cattle.  Sometimes  there  was  a  stock- 
rider, often  none  at  all  for  months.  The  owner 
enjoyed  the  inestimable  advantage  of  having  been 
born  north  of  the  Tweed,  a  fact  which  indisposed 
him  to  employ  more  labour  than  was  absolutely 
necessary.      It   also  prevented   him  from  wasting  his 

chap,  xni      SUPERIOR  FATTENING  COUNTRY       133 

ready  money  on  "  improvements."  The  yards  were 
generally  referred  to  as  a  proof  of  how  very  little 
expenditure  was  really  necessary  on  a  cattle  station. 
"  I  wish  I'd  been  a  Scotchman,  Rolf,"  said  Fred 
Burchett  to  me  once,  in  a  contemplative  mood.  "  I 
should  have  had  a  good  run  and  20,000  sheep  by 
this  time."  "  True — most  true,  friend  of  my  soul  ; 
the  same  here — and  we  should  not  only  have  had 
them, — the  acquisition  is  not  so  difficult, — but  have 
kept  them.  That's  where  one  division  of  the  empire 
differs  so  much  from  the  other."  Now,  the  owner  of 
Blackfellows'  Creek,  partly  by  reason  of  his  abnormal 
girth  and  a  sort  of  Athelstane-the-Unready  kind  of 
nature,  never  did  anything.  Yet  he  prospered  ex- 
ceedingly, and  waxed  more  and  more  wealthy  and 
rotund.  All  the  stock-riders  in  the  district  came 
cheerfully  to  his  muster,  knowing  that  they  would 
be  treated  with  a  certain  easy-going  liberality,  and, 
moreover,  be  sure  to  find  quantities  of  unbranded 
calves  and  strayed  stock,  all  in  the  best  possible 
condition,  and  never  driven  off  the  run  or  impounded 
from  the  richly-abounding  and  carelessly -ordered 
pastures  of  Blackfellows'  Creek.  I  myself  secured 
at  a  muster,  and  sold  there  and  then,  a  whole  lot 
of  fat  bullocks  to  Mooney,  the  cattle-dealer,  who 
was  lifting  a  draft  at  the  time.  They  were  a 
portion  of  my  Devil's  River  store  lot,  which  had, 
with  correct  taste  and  calculation,  taken  up  their 
abode  at  Blackfellows'  Creek  on  the  first  winter  of 
their  arrival.  They  had  not  my  station  brand, 
but  their  own  hieroglyph  was  sufficient  to  protect 
them  in  those  Arcadian  times.  I  received  Mr. 
Mooney's    perfectly  negotiable  cheque   for   a   round 


sum.  They  had  fattened  up  wonderfully, — great, 
raw-boned,  old-fashioned  Sydney-siders, — and  looked 
like  elephants.  The  only  remark  the  owner  of  the 
run  made  on  the  transaction  was,  "  As  they  had 
done  so  well,  it  was  a  pity  that  more  of  them  hadn't 
come  at  the  same  time." 

It  was  indeed  a  lovely  bit  of  country,  speaking 
from  a  grazing  standpoint.  There  was  plenty  of 
water  in  the  Blackfellows'  and  other  unpretending 
channels  to  provide  for  the  stock  in  all  seasons 
without  obtrusive  parade.  The  run  itself  consisted 
principally  of  open  well-grassed  forest  land,  with  a 
large  proportion  of  "  stony  rises,"  and  several 
marshes,  very  useful  in  the  summer.  Not  an  acre 
of  waste  or  indifferent  land  was  there  upon  it. 
Nobody  knew  where  the  boundaries  were,  there 
being  no  natural  features  of  any  kind,  and  the 
current  belief  was  that  it  was  much  larger  than 
was  generally  supposed.  It  did  not  seem  to  have 
any  of  the  ordinary  drawbacks  to  which  other 
squattagcs  were  exposed.  In  spite  of  its  ill-omened 
name,  the  blacks  had  never  been  "  bad  "  there.  If 
they  had  killed  a  few  cattle  no  one  would  have 
minded,  and  I  have  no  doubt  they  would  have 
discontinued  the  practice  voluntarily. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  the  cattle  were  always 
"  rolling  fat."  There  was  never  the  least  trouble  of 
selling  a  draft  to  be  taken  from  the  camp.  The 
dealers  gave  the  highest  price,  and  bid  against  one 
another.  Even  the  two-year-old  steers  were  often 
taken,  so  "  furnished  "  and  "  topped  up  "  were  they. 
How  they  were  bred  could  never  be  ascertained,  and 
was  popularly  supposed   to  be   wholly  unknown   to 


any  white  man  of  the  period.  Bulls  were  seldom 
bought.  Not  the  smallest  trouble  was  taken  about 
their  breeding.  No  money  was  spent,  except  upon 
the  stud,  in  which  were  some  noble  Clydesdales — on 
one  of  them,  by  the  way,  I  once  saw  the  proprietor, 
and  very  worthily  mounted  he  was.  The  animal 
in  question  was  a  son  of  old  Farmer's  Favourite, 
a  gigantic  gray,  no  doubt  having  some  blood  on  the 
side  of  the  dam,  and  seventeen  hands  in  height. 
He  was  active  and  well  paced,  and  carried  his 
nineteen  stone  most  creditably. 

There  were  sheep  on  the  run  as  well  as  cattle. 
From  the  richness  of  the  soil  and  herbage  they 
suffered  a  good  deal  with  foot-rot,  which  they  were 
permitted  to  cure  by  nature's  own  healing  art.  But 
they  paid  pretty  well,  too,  growing  a  heavy  fleece, 
and  gradually  increasing  in  numbers — shepherds, 
ailments,  and  occasional  free  selection  by  dingoes 

Mr.  Carmichael  either  bought  the  place  very 
early  or  "  took  it  up  " — the  latter  most  likely.  Such 
a  property  was,  presumably,  not  often  in  the  market  ; 
but  the  proprietor  told  me  that  he  had  once  placed 
it  under  offer,  at  what  he  doubtless  considered  a 
very  fancy  price,  to  Mr.  Jack  Buchanan,  a  handsome, 
spirited  young  Scot,  who  bought  one  of  the  Messrs. 
Boldens'  runs — the  Lake — in  1844.  The  extreme 
fancy  price  being  £3  per  head  for  the  cattle  and 
1  os.  all  round  for  the  sheep,  the  run  about  a  quarter 
stocked ! 

After  the  gold  "broke  out,"  the  drafts  of  fat 
cattle  from  Harton  Hills  began  to  tell  up  in  such 
figures  on  the  right  side  of  his  banking  account  that 


the  owner  saw  the  necessity  for  acquiring  the  fee- 
simple.  This  was  effected,  like  everything  else 
there,  without  much  trouble.  A  good  house  was 
built,  fencing  was  put  up.  Thousands  of  acres 
were  purchased,  and  the  whole  run  pretty  well 
"  secured,"  out  of  its  own  profits  solely,  by  the  time 
the  invasion  of  the  free-selecting  Goths  and  Vandals 
under  Gavan  Duffy's  Act  took  place.  Mr.  Car- 
michael  ultimately  retired,  and  betook  himself  to  a 
town  life.  But,  however  his  idyll  ended,  no  better 
example  than  Blackfellows'  Creek  ever  demonstrated 
the  soundness  of  the  old  squatting  belief  before 
alluded  to,  that  the  run  is  everything — stock,  improve- 
ments, management,  capital,  etc.,  being  all  secondary 

It  has  been  mentioned  in  the  early  portions  of 
these  reminiscences  that  the  Mount  Rouse  station, 
originally  taken  up  by  Mr.  John  Cox,  had  been 
resumed  by  the  Government  of  the  day,  represented 
by  His  Honour  the  Superintendent,  and  devoted  to 
the  use  and  benefit  of  the  aborigines  of  the  district. 
Some  compunction  seems  to  have  been  felt  by  Mr. 
La  Trobe,  a  humane  and  highly-cultured  person, 
at  the  rapid  decrease  and  deterioration  of  the  native 
race.  Whether  he  originated  the  idea  of  an 
aboriginal  protectorate,  with  a  staff  of  officials 
known  as  "  Black  Protectors,"  I  cannot  state  with 
precision.  A  certain  missionary  named  Robinson 
had  the  credit  of  inducing  the  remnant  of  the  wild 
men  and  women  of  Tasmania  to  surrender  to  the 
clemency  of  the  Government.  They  were  then, 
with  a  somewhat  doubtful  generosity,  presented  with 
an   island,  and   maintained    thereon   at   the   charges 


of  the  State.  It  does  not  appear  that  they 
lacked  henceforth  any  material  comfort.  But  the 
fierce  savages  who  had  long  harassed  the  outlying 
settlers,  and  who  possessed  considerably  more  "  bull- 
dog "  in  the  way  of  courage  than  their  continental 
congeners,  refused  to  thrive  or  multiply  when 
"  cabined,  cribbed,  confined,"  even  though  they  had 
alternation  of  landscape  in  their  island  home,  and 
but  the  restless  sea  for  their  encircling  boundary. 
They  pined  away  slowly  ;  but  a  few  years  since  the 
last  female  of  the  race  died.  The  monotonous 
comfort  told  on  health  and  spirits.  It  was  wholly 
alien  to  the  constitution  of  the  wild  hunters  and 
warriors  who  had  been  wont  to  traverse  pathless 
woods,  to  fish  in  the  depths  of  forest  streams,  to 
chase  the  game  of  their  native  land  through  the 
lone  untrampled  mead,  or  the  hoar  primeval  forests 
which  lay  around  the  snow-crested  mountain  range. 

The  missionary  diplomatist  displayed  an  amount 
of  nerve  and  astuteness  which  would  have  led  to 
promotion  in  other  departments.  He  crossed  the 
straits  to  Victoria,  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  held 
council  with  Mr.  La  Trobe.  Whether  propter  hoc  or 
only  post  hoc,  an  aboriginal  protectorate  was  estab- 
lished, and  Mr.  Cox  had  the  honour  of  giving  up  a 
property  worth  now  say  about  ;£  100,000  for  the 
presumed  advantage  of  the  black  brother. 

It  was  no  trifling  loss.  Even  in  those  days  the 
"  Mount  Rouse  Stones "  was  an  expression  which 
made  the  mouth  of  a  cattleman  to  water.  It  was 
the  richest  run  in  a  rich  fattening  district.  The 
conical  hill,  so  named,  was  an  extinct  volcano,  which 
towered    over   a   wide   extent   of  lava  country  and 


open  lightly-timbered  forest.  The  lava  lands  alter- 
nated with  great  marshes.  Strayed  and  other  cattle 
found  there,  when  recovered,  were  always  spoken  of 
by  the  stock-riders  as  being  "mud-fat."  When 
once  cattle  were  turned  out  there  they  never  seemed 
to  have  any  inclination  to  roam,  being  instinctively 
aware,  doubtless,  that  they  could  never  hope  to  find 
such  shelter,  such  pasture,  such  luxurious  lodging 
anywhere  else. 

I  remember  Charles  Burchett  remarking  one  day 
that  it  would  be  a  fairly  promising  speculation  to 
bring  up  a  thousand  head  of  store  cattle  and  lose 
them  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Rouse  ;  after  a  short, 
unsuccessful  search,  to  depart,  and  return  in  the 
autumn,  when  they  would  be  sure  to  be  found  all 
fat,  and  within  a  dozen  miles  of  the  hill.  He 
reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then  added  thoughtfully, 
"  I  think  a  popular  man  might  do  it." 

However,  there  was  no  fighting  with  the  powers 
that  be  in  those  days.  There  was  no  Parliament — 
no  press  of  any  great  weight — no  fierce  democracy 
— no  redress  nearer  than  Sydney.  It  was  "  a  far 
cry  to  Lochow."  So  Mr.  Cox  shifted  his  stock  and 
servants  out,  and  Dr.  Watton  moved  in,  took  pos- 
session as  Protector  of  Aborigines,  and  gathered  to 
him  the  remnant  of  the  former  lords  of  the  soil,  with 
their  wives  and  their  little  ones.  The  intention  was 
humane  ;  the  act  was  one  of  mercy  and  justice 
towards  the  fast-fading  children  of  the  waste  ;  but 
it  never  could  be  demonstrated  to  be  more  successful 
In  results  than  the  Tasmanian  experiment. 

There  were  several  protectorate  stations  estab- 
lished about  the  same  time,  one  notably  near  Ballarat, 


one,  I  think,  on  the  Wimmera,  and  one  on  the  Murray. 
Long  after  a  Moravian  Mission  was  organised  for 
their  behoof  at  Lake  Boga,  near  Swan  Hill.  All 
came  to  naught.  The  blacks  visited  them  from  time 
to  time,  when  the  season  was  unpropitious,  or  for 
other  reasons.  They  were  fed  and  clothed.  The 
younger  ones  were  taught  to  read  and  write,  and 
received  religious  instruction.  But  the  whole  thing 
doubtless  appeared  to  them  unendurably  dull  and 
slow,  and  like  all  savages,  and  a  largish  proportion 
of  whites,  being  passionately  averse  to  monotony, 
they  deserted  by  degrees,  and  pursued  a  more 
congenial  career  as  wanderers  through  wood  and 
wold,  or  as  servants  and  labourers  at  the  neigh- 
bouring stations.  There  they  could  earn  money, 
and,  I  fear  me,  proceeded  to  "  knock  down "  the 
same  by  means  of  periodic  alcoholic  indulgence,  "  as 
nat'ral  as  a  white  man." 

Meanwhile  good  old  Dr.  Watton,  a  genial,  cultured 
English  gentleman,  lived  a  peaceful  patriarchal  life 
at  Mount  Rouse — not,  I  should  imagine,  vexing 
his  soul  unduly  at  the  instability  of  the  heathen. 
They  were  welcomed  and  kindly  treated  when  they 
came,  not  particularly  regretted  when  they  chose 
to  depart.  All  attempt  at  coercion  would  have 
been,  of  course,  inexpedient  and  ludicrously  ineffec- 
tive. So  matters  at  the  "  Reservation "  wore  on. 
The  doctor's  small  herd  of  cattle,  the  descendants  of 
a  few  milch  cows  needed  for  the  family,  were  won- 
derful to  behold  by  reason  of  their  obesity,  as  they 
lay  and  lounged  about  the  spring  which  trickled 
down  a  plough-furrow  in  front  of  the  cottage. 

The  pastoralists  never  approved  of  the  protectorate 


system.  They  accused  certain  of  the  protectors — 
not  the  gentlemen  to  whom  I  refer — of  instructing 
the  blacks  that  if  whites  shot  them  it  would  be  con- 
sidered murder,  and  the  offenders  hanged,  but  that  if 
they  speared  the  cattle  or  the  stockmen  occasionally, 
it  was  only,  let  us  say,  an  error  of  judgment,  for 
which  they  would  not  suffer  death.  This  probably 
was  an  exaggeration,  and  some  allowance  must  be 
made  for  the  habitual  antagonism  of  pioneers  to 
"  Injuns"  of  any  sort  or  kind. 

If  these  establishments  did  no  particular  good, 
they  did  no  harm.  They  afforded  shelter  to  the 
aged  and  infirm  of  both  sexes,  and  they  attempted, 
in  all  good  faith,  to  teach  the  young  the  great 
truths  of  the  Christian's  hope  in  life  and  death. 
Still,  I  know  but  of  one  instance  where  any  per- 
manent educational  good  resulted  to  the  pure  race. 
Yet  I  took  much  interest  in  the  question,  and 
remember  watching  closely  the  career  of  a  highly 
intelligent  half-caste,  who  had  been  brought  up  by 
Mr.  Donald  M'Leod  at  Moruya.  He  was  a  tall, 
well-made  man,  intelligent,  "  reliable,"  and  shrewd. 
He  married  a  respectable  emigrant  girl.  They  had 
two  children,  and  a  situation  under  Cobb  and  Co. 
At  this  stage  of  ethnological  interest  a  snake  bit 
him.  The  poor  fellow  died,  and  1  lost  the  oppor- 
tunity of  watching  the  development  of  the  mixed 

After  the  Mount  Rouse  aboriginal  station  had 
been  devoted  to  this  philanthropical  purpose  for  a 
certain  number  of  years,  it  became  gradually  apparent 
to  the  official  mind,  from  the  well-nigh  complete  dis- 
appearance of  aboriginals,  that  its  utility  had  ceased. 


It  was  accordingly  disestablished.  One  would  have 
thought  that  the  obviously  fair  thing  would  have 
been  to  have  handed  back  the  right  of  run  to  the 
former  owner.  This  was  before  any  gospel  of  free 
selection  had  been  preached,  and  while  the  "  poor 
man  "  was  still  a  harmless,  contented  unit  of  the  body 
politic,  ignorant  of  his  wrongs,  and  unacquainted  with 
the  fatal  flavour  of  vote  by  ballot.  The  license  could 
have  been  granted  afresh  to  Mr.  Cox  or  his  executors, 
and  no  one  would  have  thought  of  protesting.  But 
no  !  With  a  certain  cheese-paring  economy,  of  which 
Governments  are  often  justly  accused,  it  was  decided 
to  let  the  right  of  run  by  tender.  Though  assess- 
ments were  high  enough,  no  one  in  those  days 
dreamed  of  offering  more  than  ^200  or  £300 
annually  for  the  mere  grass  right  of  any  run.  Mount 
Rouse  was  hardly  improved  in  any  way.  Every  one 
was  considerably  astonished  when  it  was  proclaimed 
that  the  tender  of  the  Messrs.  Twomey  had  been 
accepted  for  £900  per  annum  !  This  was  a  rental 
for  the  waste  lands  of  the  Crown  with  a  vengeance  ! 
It  was  thought  that  it  never  would  pay  the  daring 
speculators.  However,  the  event  showed  that  the 
Messrs.  Twomey  had  gauged  the  capabilities  of  the 
run  accurately  enough.  They  had  a  small  station 
close  by,  and  had  made  their  calculations  justly. 
They  put  sheep  on,  fenced,  and  presumably  made 
money  thereby,  as  they  eventually  purchased  the 
greater  portion  of  the  freehold. 


BURCHETT    OF    "  THE   GUMS  " 

This  was  the  well-known  name  of  an  exceedingly 
choice  run  close  to  Nareeb  Nareeb,  on  Muston's 
Creek,  and  at  an  early  period  in  the  occupation  of 
the  Messrs.  Charles,  Henry,  and  Fred  Burchett.  The 
name  was  allotted  by  Charles,  who  said  that  as 
the  old  country  places  were  christened  "  The  Oaks," 
"  The  Ashes,"  "  The  Beeches,"  and  so  on,  he  thought 
it  befitting  that  an  Australian  homestead  should 
be  known  as  "  The  Gums."  So  mote  it  be  ;  and  I 
fancy  Mr.  Ross,  the  present  owner,  has  by  no  means 
changed  the  name. 

Charles  Burchett  was  a  humourist  of  the  first 
water,  and  as  such  delighted  in  by  his  numerous 
friends.  The  district  was  hardly  ever  without  the 
excitement  of  "  Burchett's  last."  He  had  a  serious, 
tentative,  doubtful  way  of  bringing  out  his  good 
things,  which  heightened   the  effect. 

"  The  Gums,"  like  Dunmore,  boasted  a  better 
library  than  ordinary,  and  there  was  set  on  foot  the 
Mount  Rouse  Book  Club,  which,  founded  on  a 
moderate  subscription,  and    compelling  members  to 

chap,  xiv        BURCHETT  OF  "  THE  GUMS"  143 

send  round  the  books  at  monthly  intervals,  pro- 
vided mental  food  for  a  goodly  number  of  friends 
and  neighbours. 

Charles  Burchett  and  his  brother  Fred  were  both 
somewhat  deaf.  Whether  or  not  the  slight  infirmity 
concentrated  the  reflective  powers,  certain  it  is  that 
they  resembled  each  other  closely  in  being  excep- 
tionally original  and  amusing  in  conversation. 

Occasionally  Mr.  Charles  Burchett's  difficulty  in 
hearing  led  to  diverting  cross  purposes,  as  in  the  case 
of  his  celebrated  interview  with  the  bushrangers. 
He  and  a  friend,  it  is  related,  some  time  in  the  early 
days,  met  with  two  men,  one  of  whom  carried  a  gun. 
They  addressed  themselves  to  his  companion,  who 
appeared  to  be,  from  the  expression  of  his  counte- 
nance, much  interested  in  their  remarks. 

Mr.  Burchett  looked  at  them  with  an  inquiring 
air.  "  What  do  they  want,  Scott  ?  "  he  said,  in  his 
resonant,  high-pitched  voice,  accentuating  always 
the  last  word  of  the  sentence.  "  Do  they  want 
work  ?  " 

None  of  them  could  help  laughing,  it  is  said  ;  but 
the  man  with  the  gun,  observing  the  gentleman  place 
his  hand  to  his  ear,  raised  the  gun  sharply  to  a  level 
with  his  breast,  by  way  of  explaining  matters. 

Again  Mr.  Burchett  looked  up  with  a  grave  and 
meditative  expression.  Then  he  addressed  the 
spoiler — "  I  say,  take  away  that  gun,  it  might  go  off." 
Even  the  hardened  old  hand  was  not  proof  against 
this  characteristic  jest ;  he  put  down  his  gun  in  order 
to  laugh  in  comfort.  However,  it  was  explained 
that  business  was  business.  So  having  relieved  Mr. 
Burchett   and   his   friend   of  their   horses  and   loose 


cash,  the  robbers  departed.  But  they  behaved  with 
civility,  and  a  ten-mile  walk  was  the  worst  of  the 
affair.  The  horses  were  afterwards  found  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  spot,  and  returned  to  their  owners. 
Unfortunately,  as  it  happened,  the  fraternal  trium- 
virate at  "The  Gums"  held  diverse  opinions  as  to 
the  stock  upon  which  to  stake  the  fortunes  of  the 
firm.  Henry  Burchett  was  gifted  with  a  strongly 
arithmetical  turn,  in  consequence  of  which  he  was 
generally  alluded  to  by  Charles  as  "  my  brother 
Cocker."  A  calculation  of  the  average  value  of  the 
wool -clip  led  him  doubtless  to  decide — with  con- 
siderable accuracy,  as  events  proved — in  favour  of 
sheep.  Charles  and  Fred  preferred  cattle.  In  the 
end  Charles  sold  his  share  of  run  and  stock,  and 
commenced  a  business  in  Melbourne.  Having  made 
a  pilgrimage  to  Riverina,  riding  one  wiry  hackney 
the  whole  way  there  and  back,  without  apparent 
distress  to  man  or  beast,  Henry  posed  as  the  apostle 
of  a  new  faith  on  his  return,  after  beholding,  near 
Deniliquin,  what  he  then  decided  to  be  the  true 
home  of  the  merino  sheep,  and  purchasing  for  a  small 
price  a  certain  run  on  the  Billabong,  since  tolerably 
well  known  to  wool-buyers  as  "  Coree."  He  bought 
sheep  with  which  to  stock  it,  and  removed  those 
still  at  "  The  Gums."  He  it  was  who  first  placed 
a  dam  across  the  uncertain  watercourse  of  the 
Billabong,  and  thus  aided  the  inception  of  the  great 
system  of  water-storage  now  so  universal.  It  was 
a  primitive  time  enough  on  the  Billabong,  one  may 
be  sure.  The  late  Mr.  Sylvanus  Daniel  was  a  man 
in  authority  at  Deniliquin,  then  known  as  one  of 
"  The    Royal    Bank "  stations.       Some   of  his   good 

xiv  BURCHETT  OF  "THE  GUMS"  145 

stones  the  wayfarer  from  Port  Fairy  brought  back 
with  him,  so  that  the  fame  of  that  gentleman's 
hospitality  and  genial  temperament  reached  the 
colony  of  Victoria  years  before  he  migrated  to  the 
north-western  district  of  New  South  Wales. 

Henry  Burchett  retained  his  share  in  "The  Gums" 
after  his  purchase  of  Coree,  but,  wishing  to  concen- 
trate his  investments,  he — unfortunately  for  his  partner 
and  himself — decided  to  realise  on  the  Port  Fairy 
property.  The  sale  of  "The  Gums"  accordingly  took 
place.  It  was,  of  course,  before  the  gold — only  one 
year  I  think.  The  price  of  a  first-class,  well-improved, 
fattening  run,  with  a  good  herd  of  1  500  cattle  thereon, 
was — what  does  any  one  think  ? — £2  per  head  ! 
Yes,  at  this  melancholy  price  did  "  The  Gums  "  pass 
into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Henry  Gottreaux,  a  gentleman 
lately  arrived  in  the  colony,  formerly  in  the  Austrian 
service.  He  was  a  brother  of  William  Gottreaux,  of 
Lilaree ;  he  had,  therefore,  the  advantage  of  the 
advice  of  an  experienced  colonist. 

Mr.  Gottreaux  did  not  look,  to  our  eyes,  the  "  man 
for  Galway " ;  or  likely  to  make  much  out  of  a 
cattle  run  in  those  hard -riding,  hard -living  days. 
Tall  and  soldierly -looking,  with  a  big  moustache, 
he  had  a  bluff,  German-baron  sort  of  air.  He  was 
portly  withal,  and,  though  a  cavalry  man,  not  up 
to  much  in  the  "  cutting-out "  or  cattle-muster  line. 
The  first  thing  to  which  he  devoted  his  energies 
was  the  building  of  a  spacious,  wide-verandahed  brick 
cottage,  dooming  the  snug  old  slab  homestead,  where 
we  had  all  spent  so  many  pleasant  hours,  to  do  duty 
as  barracks  and  out-offices.  After  this  he  inquired  of 
one  of  the  visitors,  who,  after  our  custom,  had  come 



to  help  at  the  muster,  whether  it  would  not  be  easy 
to  transmit  his  share  of  the  profits  to  a  friend  in 
England,  who  had  an  interest — as  a  sleeping  partner 
— in  the  station. 

The  man  whom  he  addressed  smiled  inwardly, 
and  sardonically  replied,  "  Very  easy."  We  thought 
this  a  good  joke  when  it  was  handed  over  to  us  a 
week  after.  But  Mr.  Gottreaux  was  right,  and  we 
were  all  wrong,  proving  how  difficult  it  was  to  decide 
in  such  matters  unless  all  the  factors  of  the  sum 
are  in  view.  In  the  first  place,  the  new  proprietor 
was  a  man  of  brains  and  method,  culture  and 
knowledge  of  the  world.  He  did  not  scurry  about 
in  the  camp  on  the  stock-horse  of  the  period — it 
was  not  his  mttier ;  but  he  paid  and  controlled  a 
good  stock-rider  who  did.  He  lived  comfortably, 
preferring,  reasonably,  to  dine  at  ease  after  the 
business  of  the  day  was  concluded.  But  he  kept 
his  accounts  correctly,  and  provided  that  the  balance 
should  be  on  the  right  side.  The  seasons  were 
favourable  ;  they  are  rarely  otherwise  in  the  pleasant 
west  country,  to  the  green  pastures  of  which  fate  had 
guided  the  "  bold  Uhlan."  And  then — trump  card 
of  all — the  Gold  Magician  played  shortly  afterwards, 
lie  threw  down  an  ace — waved  his  wand.  The  cattle 
which  our  friend  purchased  at  £ 2,  with  right  of  run 
added,  became  worth  £10  per  head.  So  he  had 
profits  to  remit  to  his  partner  after  all,  by  no  means 
of  small  annual  amount  either. 

Terenallum  was  in  early  days  the  property  of 
Messrs.  Lang  and  Elms,  who  considered  it  a  fairly 
paying  sheep  run,  though  bare  of  timber  and  rather 
desolate  of  aspect.     Disadvantageously  for  the  firm, 

xiv  BURCHETT  OF  "THE  GUMS"  147 

as  it  turned  out,  Mr.  Elms,  the  resident  partner,  was 
tempted  by  what  was  then  thought  to  be  a  high  price 
—  12s.  per  head  or  so,  with  about  one-third  of  the 
stock  it  afterwards  carried — to  sell  to  Mr.  Russell 
of  The  Leigh.  He  invested  in  a  presumably  richer 
country  between  The  Grange  and  the  Eumeralla, 
and,  I  should  think,  never  ceased  to  regret  the 
exchange.  The  new  runs  were  chiefly  cattle  country, 
being  well-grassed  forest,  not  over  dry  in  winter,  and 
therefore  in  those  days  looked  upon  as  liable  to 
foot-rot.  The  eastern  subdivision,  called  "  Lyne," 
was  at  no  great  distance  from  Mr.  Cox's  Werrongourt 
station.  This  transaction  illustrates  the  errors  of 
judgment  so  often  made  by  pioneer  squatters,  men 
of  exceeding  shrewdness  and  energy  notwithstanding. 
So  George  Wyndham  Elms  sold  Terenallum,  now 
proverbially  one  of  the  most  valuable  sheep  properties 
west  of  the  Barwon,  and  purchased  a  run  which 
must  have  paid  indifferent  interest  on  capital  for 
long  afterwards.  Yet  the  seller  was  sufficiently  ex- 
perienced, could  work  with  both  hands  and  head, 
had  confronted  all  the  regulation  pioneer  troubles — 
bad  shepherds,  blacks,  low  wool,  everything — had 
shepherded  on  a  pinch,  and  slept  in  a  watch-box. 
Then,  when  all  was  well  and  a  fortune  coming  to 
meet  him,  he  was  fated  to  ruin  everything  for  the 
sake  of  change.     Mais,  telle  est  la  vie. 

Lyne  and  the  other  station  were  good  enough, 
fairly  watered,  splendidly  grassed,  and  so  on  ;  but  the 
cautious  critics  said  they  would  never  make  up  for 
Terenallum.      And  they  didn't. 

The  original  cattle  had  been  neglected,  it  would 
appear.      Among  them  was   a   large   proportion   of 


bullocks  which  declined  with  fiendish  obstinacy  to 
fatten.  They  would  do  anything  but  go  off  to  the 
butcher.  They  oppressed  the  rest  of  the  herd, 
showed  a  bad  example,  and  paid  nothing.  They 
were  what  are  known  by  the  stock-riders  as  "  ragers  " 
or  "  pig-meaters."  Fierce  of  aspect,  and  active  as 
buffaloes,  they  appear  with  regularity  at  each  muster, 
but  are  never  permitted  the  chance  of  road-adventure 
with  any  buyer  of  fat  cattle.  The  price  offered  for 
them  is  generally  so  small  that  in  many  instances 
the  owner  ceases  to  form  plans  for  their  conversion 
into  cash,  and,  if  easy-going,  permits  them  to  eat 
grass  and  demoralise  the  herd  indefinitely.  The 
run  was  now  worked  with  fair  results  for  a  year 
or  two,  but  it  soon  became  apparent  that  it  was 
not  likely  to  return  the  same  sort  of  dividends 
which  were  so  satisfactory  each  year  at  Terenallum. 
This  probably  tended  towards  discussion  between 
the  partners.  However  that  might  have  been,  a 
division  of  the  runs  took  place.  Mr.  Lang  retained 
Lyne,  with  the  herd  of  cattle  depastured  thereon, 
while  Mr.  Elms  removed  to  that  portion  of  the  area 
which  lay  nearer  to  the  town  of  Hamilton.  Upon 
this  he  built  a  new  homestead,  and  proceeded  to 
convert  it  into  a  sheep  station. 

Mr.  Lang  had  visited  England  more  than  once 
during  the  partnership,  and  so  loosened  his  hold 
upon  matters  colonial.  It  has  generally  happened, 
within  my  experience  at  least,  that  a  squatter  who 
permitted  himself  to  behold  "  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth,  and  the  glory  of  them,"  rarely  settled  down 
into  a  contented  colonist  upon  returning  to  Australia. 
So   Mr.  Lang  put  Lyne  into  the  market.      It  was 

xiv  BURCHETT  OF  «  THE  GUMS"  149 

sold  to  Captain  Stanley  Carr,  a  retired  military 
officer,  who  had  passed  years  at  a  German  court, 
and  held  property  in  Silesia.  There,  it  seems,  he 
had  acquired  a  taste  for  high-class  merinoes.  He 
had  been  tempted  to  visit  Australia,  probably  as 
a  larger  field  for  investment,  bringing  with  him 
some  good  sheep  of  the  type  then  prevailing,  and 
fashionable  in  the  country  of  his  adoption.  These 
were  sent  to  Lyne,  where  they  were  only  moderately 
praised  by  the  sheepholders  of  the  district,  being 
acknowledged  to  be  fine  as  to  quality  of  fleece, 
but  considered  small  and  delicate  of  frame. 

Captain  Stanley  Carr,  by  birth  Scoto-Irish,  was 
a  genial  and  polished  personage,  not  altogether 
averse  to  the  privilege  accorded  to  travellers,  but 
most  amusing  and  agreeable.  He  bought,  as  did 
Mr.  Gottreaux, "  before  the  gold."  The  price  he  paid 
was  therefore  moderate,  leaving  a  large  margin  for 
profit  in  the  rising  markets  which  were  imminent, 
and  of  which  he  shortly  experienced  the  advantage. 
Residing  for  a  few  months  at  Lyne,  he  made  himself 
popular  with  his  neighbours,  who  were  nothing  loath 
to  visit  and  entertain  a  courtier,  a  man  of  the  world, 
and  a  raconteur  at  once  so  experienced  and  original. 
He  justified  the  shrewd  outlook  upon  events  which 
had  caused  him  to  become  an  investor  in  the  first 
instance,  by  prophesying  an  extraordinary  develop- 
ment of  Australian  prosperity  which  was  to  be 
rapid  and  astonishing.  The  soil,  the  climate,  the 
extent  of  the  waste  lands  of  the  Crown,  all  excited 
his  admiration.  The  captain's  pre-auriferous  predic- 
tions have  since  received  curiously  close  fulfilment. 

Our  gallant  pastoral  comrade  had  some  knowledge 

150  OLD  MELBOURNE  MEMORIES     chap,  xiv 

of  sheep-farming.  For  the  management  of  a  mixed 
herd  of  cattle,  after  the  Australian  fashion,  he  was  as 
unfitted  as  the  confidential  German  shepherd  of  his 
priceless  Silesian  ewes  to  "  run  "  a  South  American 
saladero.  Wisely,  therefore,  he  took  the  neighbours 
into  his  confidence,  requesting  the  advice  which 
was  cheerfully  given.  He  was,  in  the  first  instance, 
by  them  adjured  to  cull  the  herd  severely — to  that 
end  to  eliminate  without  delay  all  the  bovine 
"  larrikins "  (the  word  had  not  then  been  coined, 
but  an  analogous  social  remedy  may  yet  in  future 
ages  be  legally  applicable)  by  boiling  them  down. 
There  happened  to  be  at  Port  Fairy  in  that 
brooding  year  just  before  the  gold  —  and  what 
embryo  events  were  not  then  ripening  in  the 
womb  of  fate!  —  a  regularly -appointed  saladero. 
How  much  more  concise  is  the  expression  than  "  a 
boiling-down  establishment  where  salting  beef  for 
exportation  is  also  carried  on,"  and  yet  foolish 
utilitarians  see  no  advantage  in  schoolboys  learning 
Greek  and  Latin.  But  this  savours  of  digression. 
Such  an  institution  was  then  in  full  working 
order,  organised  for  the  reduction  of  the  "  dangerous 
classes "  of  the  bovine  neighbourhood  into  tallow 
and  corned  beef.  It  was  managed  by  Mr.  M'Cracken, 
and  (of  course)  subsidised  by  Mr.  William  Rutledge. 
"  Unto  this  last "  the  Lyne  larrikins  were  by  a 
consensus  of  notables  forthwith  relegated. 



The  captain's  first  cattle -muster  was  fixed  for  a 
certain  day.  I  had  the  honour  of  being  invited 
specially  to  superintend  the  classing  and  drafting  of 
the  bullocks,  retaining  the  presumably  marketable, 
and  condemning  the  irreconcilables.  I  was  happy 
to  accede,  but  a  slight  difficulty  stood  in  the  way. 
The  night  preceding  the  muster  had  been  devoted 
to  the  coming  ball  at  Dunmore,  an  anxiously- 
anticipated  festivity,  to  which  all  Port  Fairy  was 
bidden,  and  from  which  no  loyal  Western  man 
could  be  absent  if  alive.  Certainly  not  the  writer, 
Terpsichore's  not  least  ardent  votary.  The  difficulty 
was  to  combine  drafting  and  dancing  with  a  con- 
scientious attention  to  both.  "  Minorca  lies  in  the 
middle  sea."  Lyne  is  half-way  between  Dunmore 
and  Hamilton — over  twenty  miles  anyhow.  The 
drafting  would  commence  at  sunrise — the  dancing 
would  continue  till  daylight.  Such  trivial  discrep- 
ancies were  negotiable,  however, 

Ere  nerve  and  sinew  began  to  fail 
In  the  consulship  of  Plancus. 


The  ball  was  in  its  way  perfect,  "  with  music, 
moonlight,  love,  and  flowers,"  probably  in  the  usual 
proportions.  Daylight  found  the  revellers  still 
unsated  ;  but  an  hour  before  the  first  tremulous 
dawn  wavelet  rippled  over  the  pale  sky-line  I  had 
doffed  the  canonicals,  slipped  on  boots  and  breeches, 
mounted  my  favourite  hackney — "The  Gaucha"to 
wit — and  was  stretching  out  along  the  track  to 
Eumeralla  at  the  rate  of  twelve  miles  an  hour. 

The  summer  morn  was  refreshingly  cool,  the  first 
hour's  ride  delicious  ;  then  an  increasing  drowsiness 
made  itself  felt,  and  ere  long  I  would  have  given  all 
the  world  to  lie  down  under  a  tree  and  sleep  till 
noon.  But  the  inclination  was  sternly  repressed,  and 
less  than  another  hour's  ride  brought  the  creek  in 
view,  below  the  blackwood-crowned  slopes  of  Lyne, 
one  of  the  loveliest  spots  in  all  the  West.  The 
position  of  the  stock-yard  was  denoted  from  afar  by 
the  great  cloud  of  dust  which  rose  pillar-like  to  the 
clear  sky,  while  the  "  roaring  "  of  the  restless,  excited 
cattle  had  been  audible  long  before  the  dust-cloud 
was  visible. 

It  was  a  lovely,  clear,  summer  morning ;  yet, 
as  I  rode  onward,  the  sentence  of  Holy  Writ  kept 
ceaseless  iteration  through  my  brain  as  curiously 
apposite,  while  ever  and  anon  through  the  green 
forest  echoed  the  deep-resounding  lowing  of  the  im- 
prisoned herd — "  And  the  smoke  of  their  torment 
ascendeth  for  ever."  As  I  rode  up  to  the  yard  a 
score  of  stock-horses  stood  under  the  trees.  The 
ocean  of  unbroken  greenery  that  lay  to  the  eastward 
was  flame-tinted  by  the  rising  sun,  but,  early  as  was 
the  hour,  work  had  begun.     Joe  Twist  of  Werron- 

xv  WORK  AND  PLAY  153 

gourt,  and  Mackay  of  Eumeralla,  were  at  the 
drafting  gates  ;  the  cattle  were  running  through.  I 
was  just  in  time  to  enter  upon  my  duty  as  classifier, 
at  which  arduous  and  delicate  task  I  continued 
till  noon.  A  half-hour  for  the  mid-day  meal,  a 
few  minutes'  grace  while  pipes  are  lighted,  then 
through  the  long,  dusty  hours  of  the  hot  after- 
noon the  laborious,  exciting  work  is  ceaselessly 
carried  on.  Strangers  and  pilgrims,  calves  and 
clear-skins,  are  separated  at  the  same  time.  The 
sun  declines,  dips  lower  still,  and  lower.  The  day  is 
done,  and  a  highly  respectable  amount  of  necessary 
work  has  been  performed.  The  liberated  herd 
streams  back  in  a  score  of  droves  to  familiar 
pastures.  Two  hundred  and  twenty  "  boilers "  are 
safe  in  the  small  yard,  the  which  will  be  started 
for  their  last  drive  on  the  following  morning.  The 
stock -riders  are  accommodated  on  the  station. 
Some  ride  home — those  who  had  no  calves  or  stray 
cattle  on  their  minds ;  the  rest  remain,  ready  to 
give  a  hand  with  the  boiling -down  draft  next 
day.  I  partake  of  Captain  Carr's  hospitality, 
warmly  thanked  for  my  exertions.  Do  I  not  doze 
off  almost  before  the  evening's  meal  is  concluded  ? 
I  beg  to  be  excused  on  the  ground  of  fatigue,  and 
depart  incontinently  for  bed  thereafter.  Do  I 
turn  round  until  sunrise  next  morning?  I  trow 

But  I  was  soon  in  the  saddle  then,  and  away 
with  the  drove  referred  to.  What  a  rush  they  made 
when  the  gate  was  opened  ! — what  a  pace  they  went 
for  the  first  mile  or  two  !  I  can  see  Joe  Twist  now 
on  his  favourite  stock-horse — a  steed  that  even  his 


master  cared  not  to  ride  without  his  permission — going 
like  a  Comanchee  Indian,  the  merest  trifle  less  than 
racing  speed,  parallel  with  a  tossing  forest  of  horns, 
his  bridle-hand  low,  his  stock-whip  raised  threaten- 
ingly, the  eager  horse's  head  now  on  the  ground, 
now  raised  higher  than  a  nervous  rider  would  choose. 
Was  there  another  man  "  steadying  the  lead  "  on  the 
opposite  side,  right  well  mounted  also,  gallant  in  the 
pride  of  youthful  horsemanship  and  the  full  inspira- 
tion of  "  God's  glorious  oxygen  "  ?  It  may  have 
been  so.  Ah  me !  those  were  pleasant  days. 
Would  they  might  return  !      Even  as  I  write, 

Still  comes  the  memory  sweet 

Of  bygone  hours,  long-gathered  flowers 
Pressed  by  our  youth's  gay  feet. 

It  may  not  have  been  wholly  in  the  interests  of 
an  Australian  merino  principality  that  our  shores 
were  honoured  by  the  captain's  company  and  capital. 
With  him — and  to  a  certain  extent,  it  was  under- 
stood, indebted  to  his  guardianship — came  a  Prince 
of  Augustenburg,  who  had  not  then  succeeded  to  his 
present  exalted  position.  This  royal  personage  was 
apparently  not  deeply  interested  in  the  pastoral  life 
of  Australia,  and  remained  to  the  last  unconcerned 
about  the  weights  and  fineness  of  fleece  of  merino 
sheep.  Providence  had  arranged  his  destiny  so  as 
to  be  unaffected  by  the  wool  market,  or  even  by 
the  prevalence  of  dry  seasons.  He  also  spoke 
English  indifferently,  and,  thus  handicapped,  pre- 
ferred the  sylvan  shades  of  Toorak  and  the 
tempered  solitude  of  a  club  smoking-room  to  the 
primeval  waste.      His   more  mercurial   senior  mean 

xv  WORK  AND  PLAY  155 

while    utilised     his    colonial     experience    to    some 
purpose,  as  the  sequel  will  show. 

Possibly  a  strict  provincial  life  at  Lyne  became 
monotonous  after  the  "  boilers "  had  realised  some 
30s.  per  head.  The  Ballarat  diggers  would  have 
eaten  them  gaily  at  £7  or  £&  each  a  year  or  two 
after,  but  we  did  not  forecast  that  and  a  few  other 
unimportant  changes.  After  the  calves  were  branded, 
after  the  German  shepherd  had  with  paternal  care 
cured  the  Silesians  of  foot-rot — (how  different  from 
the  demeanour  of  Australian  Corydon  purring  at  his 
foul  pipe,  and  double-blanking  the  sheep,  with  every- 
body connected  with  the  place,  from  the  ration- 
carrier  upwards,  as  he  pares  the  offending  hoof) — 
after  these,  and  divers  other  engrossing  duties,  had 
helped  to  hurry  along  the  stream  of  Time,  the  captain 
delegated  such  and  the  like,  permanently,  to  Mr. 
J.  R.  Nowlan,  a  gentleman  who  dwelt  hard  by,  con- 
stituting him  his  managing  partner.  He  then  betook 
himself  with  his  Prince  back  to  Europe,  via  Panama, 
a  route  then  coming  into  fashion  with  Australian 
home-returning  voyagers.  The  travellers — including, 
I  think,  Messrs.  Lang  and  Winter — had  nearly  com- 
pleted their  foreign  tour  in  an  abrupt  and  melancholy 
fashion.  While  crossing  the  Chagres  river  (I  will 
not  certify  as  to  the  name,  but,  if  doubtful  on  the 
point,  communicate  with  Baron  Lesseps,  Captain 
Mayne  Reid,  and  Mr.  Frederick  Boyle)  their  light 
bark  sprang  a  leak.  They  were  partly  canoe-wrecked, 
and  left  by  their  boatman  upon  a  sandbank  in  the 
mid -stream  of  a  big,  rapid  river,  swarming  with 
alligators.  The  river  was  rising,  which  tended  to 
limit  their  period  of  security.      In  this  strait,  a  small 


dug-out  was  seen  approaching  from  the  farther 
bank.  The  Indian  paddler  explained  by  pantomime 
that  he  could  take  but  two.  That  was  self-evident. 
One  passenger  even  suggested  risk.  Then  arose  a 
generous  contention.  To  the  Prince  was  unani- 
mously yielded  the  pas.  The  second  place  the 
captain  was  prayed  to  take.  "  No,"  said  the  gallant 
veteran  ;  "  you  fellows  have  all  the  world  before  you. 
I  have  had  my  innings,  and  a  deuced  good  one 
too.  Mot  qui  parle  !  Get  in,  either  of  you  ;  I'm 
dashed  if  I  do."  The  time  was  rapidly  growing 
shorter ;  the  sandbank  contracting  its  area.  The 
boatman  gesticulated.  The  alligators,  presumably, 
were  expectant.  It  was  no  time  for  overstrained 
ceremony.  One  of  the  squatters  stepped  in,  and 
the  frail  craft  swirled  into  the  eddying  current.  It 
returned  in  time,  and  the  Greytown  Herald  missed 
a  sensational  paragraph. 

That  was  in  other  respects  an  exciting  trip. 
Mr.  Lang  found  himself,  when  at  Panama,  relegated 
to  a  huge  dormitory,  crowded  like  a  sixpenny 
boarding-house.  Comforting  himself  with  the  re- 
flection that  it  was  but  for  a  night,  he  invoked 
Somnus,  all  vainly.  The  groans  of  a  sick  man 
on  the  next  couch  forbade  repose.  "  What's  the 
matter  with  him  ? "  he  inquired  at  length  of  his 
nearest  "  strange  bedfellow."  "  Only  Isthmus  fever," 
was  the  answer.  My  friend  shuddered,  knowing  how 
the  railway  labourers  were  even  then  being  decimated. 

"  And  why  is  the  bed  between  you  and  me 
vacant  ?  "  he  went  on  to  inquire.  "  They  buried  a 
cholera  patient  out  of  it  this  morning.  You  don't 
happen  to  have  a  cigar,  do  you  ?  " 

xv  WORK  AND  PLAY  157 

It  was  too  late  to  retreat.  The  streets  were 
none  too  safe.  But  it  may  well  be  believed  that 
the  ex-owner  of  Lyne  wished  himself  back  among 
the  blackwood  trees,  or  even  in  the  stock -yard, 
were  the  day  ever  so  dusty,  and  what  delicately 
constituted  persons  term  oppressive.  And  when  the 
red  sun  aroused  him  from  the  troubled  slumber 
which  ended  the  night's  unrest,  he  naturally  doubted 
whether  cholera  or  "  the  fever  "  would  first  lay  upon 
him  a  fatal  grasp. 

Mr.  Nowlan,  an  experienced  manager,  after 
Captain  Carr's  departure  "  worked "  Lyne  pretty 
vigorously,  selling  the  original  herd  as  they  became 
fit  for  market,  and  putting  on  store  cattle  to  the  full 
carrying  capacity  of  the  run.  The  gold  discovery  of 
course  transmuted  profits  magically.  At  the  first 
onset  of  the  revolution,  cattle  stations  reaped  most 
of  the  benefit,  so  much  less  labour  being  required 
than  on  sheep  stations.  Within  a  few  years  not 
only  had  large  profits  been  realised  for  the  partner- 
ship, but  the  value  of  the  property  had  quintupled. 
An  estate  of  freehold  land  had  been  purchased 
at  Melton,  near  Melbourne,  from  the  profits  of  fat 
stock.  A  thousand  head  of  cattle  more  than  the 
station  had  been  purchased  with  were  now  depas- 
tured. At  the  post-auriferous  prices  then  obtaining, 
Lyne,  with  3000  head  of  cattle,  was  a  very 
different  property  from  that  which  Captain  Carr 
had  originally  purchased. 

At  this  stage  a  plenipotentiary  from  Captain 
Carr  arrived  in  the  person  of  Baron  von  Loesecke,  a 
jolly,  blue-eyed,  fair-bearded  Teuton,  who  had  mar- 
ried his  only  daughter  and  heiress.     He  prudently 


concluded  to  sell.  Lyne  and  the  Melton  property 
were  accordingly,  "  on  a  future  day,  of  which," 
etc.,  put  up  to  auction  by,  I  think,  Messrs.  Kaye 
and  Butchart. 

The  Baron  used  to  remind  us  at  the  Melbourne 
Club  a  good  deal  of  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Florae, 
in  the  character  of  his  sentiments  and  the  quality  of 
his  English.  He  was  good-natured,  effusive,  polite, 
though  ready  to  resent  any  criticism  which  he  did 
not  interpret  as  friendly.  "  Do  you  think  he  in- 
tended himself  to  be  satirical  for  me?"  he  once 
inquired,  with  earnestness  ;  "  if  I  thought  so,  I  would 
challenge  him  on  the  instant."  The  challenge  did 
not  come  off,  and  it  need  hardly  be  said  that  no 
offence  was  intended  to  a  guest  and  a  foreigner. 
The  day  of  sale  came  off,  and  as  we  walked  up 
from  the  Club  the  Baron  requested  a  friend  to 
bid  for  him  the  amount  of  the  reserve  price,  which 
had  been  fixed,  I  think,  at  £6  or  £$  :  15s.  per 
head.  The  run  was,  if  anything,  overstocked. 
As  a  number  of  stores  had  been  recently  put  on,  it 
was  thought  a  fair  price.  Whatever  it  was,  owing 
to  a  misconception,  he  went  £500  higher  than  he 
had  been  instructed  to  do.  The  bidding  was  not 
very  brisk  towards  the  end,  the  sale  trembled  on  the 
balance  for  a  minute  or  two,  then  the  purchaser 
came  forward  and  made  a  further  advance.  The 
station  was  knocked  down  to  him.  The  Baron 
rushed  up  to  his  friend  and  shook  his  hand  enthusi- 
astically ;  "You  have  made  for  me  ^500,"  he  said, 
"but  I  did  hold  my  breath  till  the  next  offaire 
arrive."  Mr.  Nowlan,  as  well  as  the  captain,  his  heirs 
and  assigns,  must  have  realised  handsomely  from  the 

xv  WORK  AND  PLA  Y  159 

proceeds  of  Lyne.  Purchased  for  less  than  £4000, 
it  fetched  nearly  £20,000,  not  reckoning  intervening 
profits  and  the  Melton  freehold.  It  afforded  one 
more  illustration  of  the  strangely-assorted  luck  which 
apparently  besets  colonial  investments,  the  occasional 
success  of  outsiders,  not  less  than  the  hard  measure 
too  often  dealt  out  to  pioneers. 

I  am  not  aware  whether  the  last  purchaser  of 
Lyne  found  the  scale  of  profits  perennial.  I  doubt 
it,  inasmuch  as  Duffy's  Act  followed,  bringing  darker 
days  for  the  squatter.  Fortune  did  not  favour  the 
original  owners  either.  Cheery  and  full  of  pluck  to 
the  last,  George  Elms  sailed  for  Fiji,  as  after  an 
interval  did  his  old  comrade  Lang — pleasant,  ever- 
courteous  "  Allan-a-Dale."  It  was  the  fashionable 
"  rush "  for  a  while.  They  lie  at  rest  under  the 
whispering  palm.  Perhaps,  ere  the  last  slumber,  the 
murmur  of  the  surges  had  lulled  to  sleep  all  bitter 
memories  of  the  wild  southland  in  which  their  early 
manhood  was  passed. 



In  a  recent  advertisement  in  the  Australasian  I 
observed  public  notice  to  be  given  that  "  the  rich 
agricultural  lands  of  the  Kangatong  estate,  near 
Port  Fairy,  would  be  subdivided  at  an  early  date,  and 
sold  in  farms  to  suit  purchasers."  What  changes 
time  doth  bring !  When  I  first  saw  the  ground 
referred  to,  then  known  as  "  Cox's  Heifer  Station," 
how  could  one  divine  the  transformation  it  was 
fated  to  undergo  ?  As  little  in  1 844  was  pre- 
vision possible  of  the  separate  sale  notices  in 
which  it  would  figure  as  the  years  rolled  on.  It 
epitomises  the  history  of  the  district,  perhaps  of  the 

First  of  all,  "  that  well-known  fattening  station 
known  as  Kangatong,  with  choice  herd  of  cattle, 
stock -horses  given  in,"  etc.  Then,  "that  fully 
improved,  fenced,  and  subdivided  sheep  property, 
of  which  the  wool  is  so  favourably  known  to  Mel- 
bourne buyers."  Again,  "  that  valuable  pastoral 
estate  of  Kangatong,  comprising  35,000  (let  us 
say)   acres    of   freehold "  ;   and    now,    lastly,   "  those 

chap,  xvi      THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  FREEHOLD         161 

rich  agricultural  lands,  divided  into  farms  to  suit 

All  these  progressive  wonders  were  to  be  evolved 
from  the  lone  primeval  waste  upon  which  a  solitary- 
horseman  then  gazed  in  the  autumn  of  i  844.  And 
the  wand  of  the  squatter-sorcerer  was  to  do  it  all. 
I  might  then  have  seen  lakelets  glittering  in  the  sun, 
orchards  and  cornfields,  barns  and  stables, mansion  and 
offices,  a  village  in  itself,  the  spacious  wool-shed  and 
the  scientific  wash-pen,  had  1  possessed  the  prophetic 
eye.  But  Fate  held  her  secrets  closely  then  as  now. 
Only  the  vast  eucalyptus  forest,  stretching  unbroken 
to  the  horizon,  waved  its  sombre  banners  before  me. 
Only  the  scarce-trodden  meadows  of  the  waste  lay 
unfed,  untouched  around  me.  I  beheld  a  pastoral 
paradise  without  so  much  as  a  first  inhabitant,  and 
at  which  the  very  beasts  of  the  field  had  hardly 
arrived.  It  was  a  spectacle  sufficiently  solemn  to 
have   awed   a   democrat,   to  have  imbued   even    the 

Arch-Anti ,    well,    Anti- Capitalist,    with    some 

respectful  consideration  for  pioneers,  whether  in  toil 
or  triumph.  How  I  appeared  on  the  scene  at 
this  particular  juncture  came  about  in  this 

When  I  first  arrived  in  Port  Fairy,  the  "  Heifer 
Station  "  was  what  would  be  called  in  mining  parlance 
"  an  abandoned  claim,"  and  possibly  "  jumpable,"  to 
use  another  effective  expression  with  which  the 
gold-fields  have  enriched  the  Australian  vernacular. 
Mr.  John  Cox  of  Werrongourt  had  reconsidered  his 
first  intention  of  segregating  the  immature  females 
of  his  herd — probably  as  too  expensive — had  with- 
drawn them   and   their   herdsmen,   leaving   hut   and 



yards  untenanted,  the  run  unoccupied.  This  last  was 
now  for  sale  with  "  improvements."  I  really  can't 
recall  the  date  of  that  comprehensive  euphemism, 
which  included  everything,  from  a  watch-box  to  a 
wool-shed,  from  a  brush-yard  to  a  family  mansion. 
Perhaps  about  the  time  when  the  children  of  married 
servants  advertised  for  were  feelingly  referred  to  as 
"  encumbrances." 

However,  improvements  and  encumbrances  not- 
withstanding, we  must  get  on  with  our  "  Heifer 
Station  "  history.  Here  it  was  for  sale,  with  one  hut, 
one  log-yard,  and  the  right  to  40,000  acres,  more 
or  less,  of  first-class  pasture  —  for  how  much  ? 
Would  I  could  get  the  offer  again  !  Thirty  pounds  ! 
This  was  the  price — everybody  knew  it.  Mr.  Cox 
wanted  to  sell — had  plenty  of  country  at  Werron- 
gourt  —  couldn't  be  bothered  with  it.  The  best 
thing  I  could  do  was  to  go  and  see  it,  or  close  for 
it  at  once.  Mr.  Cox  was  in  Tasmania  just  at 
present,  but  had,  of  course,  left  instructions.  Thus 
far  the  friendly  public.  I  thought  I  would  go  and 
see.  So  I  mounted  Clifton,  the  grandson  of  Skeleton, 
and  turned  my  face  to  the  setting  sun.  Making  my 
way  to  Tarrone,  where  at  that  time  Mr.  Chamberlain 
lived,  I  explained  to  him  the  object  of  my  tourist 
wandering.  I  was  most  hospitably  received.  It 
turned  out  afterwards  that  he  had  had  a  hint  that  I 
wanted  to  "  sit  down  "  somewhere  in  his  neighbour- 
hood. The  runs  at  that  time  were,  as  may  be 
imagined,  very  sparsely  stocked.  If  the  Com- 
missioner of  Crown  Lands  was  in  a  bad  temper,  he 
had  the  power  to  "  give  away  "  to  the  interloper  a 
seriously  appreciable  portion   of  any   pastoral   area, 


however  long  established  and  secure  the  occupant 
might  fancy  himself  to  be. 

So,  as  he  afterwards  told  one  of  the  neighbours,  he 
determined  to  show  me  every  courtesy  ;  after  which, 
appealing  to  all  chivalrous  feelings  in  my  nature, 
he  felt  that  I  could  not,  in  common  decency,  annex 
any  portion  of  his  (Mr.  Chamberlain's)  run.  This  was 
a  shade  of  diplomacy  sometimes  roughly  described 
as  characteristic  of  "  the  old  soldier."  If  so,  my 
host's  military  experiences,  as  on  another  historical 
occasion,  served  him  well.  When  I  left  Tarrone  that 
morning,  with  a  guide,  towards  the  Heifer  Station,  I 
would  have  driven  on  to  Western  Australia — a  pastoral 
Vanderdecken — rather  than  infringe  on  the  tolerably 
liberal  boundaries  which  he  claimed  for  Tarrone. 

I  rode  along  and  passed  the  great  Tarrone  Marsh, 
with  its  well-defined  wooded  banks  and  its  miles 
upon  miles  of  mournful  reeds,  wild-duck  and  bittern 
haunted.  My  guide  pointed  out  to  me  a  place 
where,  riding  one  day  a  mare  that  he  described  as 
"  touchy,"  by  the  edge  of  the  marsh,  suddenly  a 
blackfellow  jumped  out  from  behind  a  tree — "  a  sal- 
vage man  accoutred  proper."  The  touchy  mare 
gave  so  sudden  a  prop,  accompanied  by  a  desperate 
plunge,  that  he  was  thrown  almost  at  the  feet  of  the 
"  Injun."  Others  appeared  —  like  Roderick  Dhu's 
clansmen — from  every  bush  and  "  stony  rise,"  which 
had  till  this  moment  sheltered  them.  He  raised 
himself  doubtfully,  much  expectant  of  evil  ;  relations 
had  certainly  been  strained  of  late  between  the  races. 
However,  they  did  not  (apparently)  kill  him,  he  being 
there  to  relate  the  story.  I  forget  what  trifle  pre- 
vented them. 


Then  he  proceeded  to  sketch  the  "  lay  of  the 
country."  Told  me  (of  course)  that  "  I  couldn't  miss 
the  place  if  I  followed  the  swamp  round  for  two  or 
three  miles,  then  made  for  the  east  a  bit,  till  I  came 
to  some  thickish  country,  then  to  look  out  for  a  ti- 
tree  crick  as  would  lead  down  to  the  main  crick. 
I'd  cut  the  tracks  where  they  had  been  tailing  the 
heifers.  Then  I'd  see  the  hut  and  yard."  He  then 
went  on  his  way,  having  "  to  run  in  a  beast  to  kill," 
and  I  saw  him  no  more.  No  track,  no  road,  no 
bridle-path  was  there,  no  known  thoroughfare  ;  while, 
after  you  left  the  great  Tarrone  Marsh,  there  was  not 
a  landmark  to  speak  of  within  twenty  miles,  not  a 
bit  of  open  country  the  size  of  a  corn-patch.  A  long, 
solitary,  unsatisfactory  day  lay  before  me.  Some- 
times I  was  pretty  sure  I  was  on  the  "  run  "  ;  at  other 
times  I  was  confident  that  I  was  off  it.  I  found 
the  creek  a  minute  but  permanent-looking  rivulet, 
with  occasional  water-holes.  The  hut  and  yards  were 
on  this  watercourse ;  both  inexpensive  structures. 
I  saw,  however,  that  the  whole  country-side  was 
covered  with  a  sward  of  kangaroo  grass  two  or 
three  feet  high,  and  as  thick  as  a  field  of  barley.  No 
doubt  it  was  good  fattening  country,  but  I  did  not 
take  to  it  somehow.  It  was  a  "  blind "  place,  in 
stock-riders'  phrase — no  open  country,  no  contrasts, 
no  romance  about  it  in  fact.  "  Toujours  gum- 
tree,"  as  Sir  Edward  Deas  Thomson  said  when  he 
drove  Sir  Charles  Fitzroy  and  Colonel  Mundy — 
somewhere  about  that  time — with  a  four-in-hand 
drag  to  Coombing,  near  Carcoar.  I  didn't  fancy  it 
altogether,  good  though  the  grass  undoubtedly  was. 
I    managed  to  make  my  way  back   to  Tarrone  that 


night,  where  I  recruited  after  the  toils  of  the  day. 
I  informed  my  gallant  and  politic  host  that  I 
thought  I  should  go  farther  west.  We  parted  on 
the  morrow — to  his  relief,  doubtless — with  feelings 
of  high  mutual  consideration. 

Years  afterwards  we  had  many  a  laugh  about  the 
fright  I  gave  him  ;  and  when  I  was  safely  settled  at 
Squattlesea  Mere,  less  than  twenty  miles  to  the  west- 
ward, I  nearly  concluded  an  agreement  with  him  to 
rent  Tarrone  for  five  years,  with  the  option  of 
purchase,  while  he  went  to  England.  This  was  a 
year  or  two  before  the  gold.  The  rental  asked  for 
run,  herd  (the  same  numbers,  ages,  and  sexes  to  be 
returned),  and  homestead  was  calculated  upon  the 
fat  cattle  prices  of  the  period — £2  :  10s.  for  cows, 
£3  for  fat  bullocks  ;  so  was  the  purchase  money.  I 
often  thought  how  awfully  sold  my  friend  and  neigh- 
bour would  have  been,  as  a  shrewd  man  of  business, 
not  wholly  unmindful  of  the  main  chance,  had  I 
closed  with  his  offer.  I  finally  declined  it  on  the 
ground  of  the  run  being  fully  stocked  up — our  bete 
noir  in  those  deliciously  simple  days,  when  we 
thought  it  took  ten  acres,  more  or  less,  to  fatten  a 

But  though  it  was  not  considered  good  form  to 
settle  down  too  close  to  a  man's  horse  paddock,  it 
would  never  have  done  to  have  taken  the  first  occu- 
pier's word  for  what  was  his  lawful  right  of  run.  By 
his  own  account  there  was  never  any  permanent  water 
"  out  back."  All  the  decent  land  within  twenty  miles 
was  his  ;  the  best  thing  the  intending  pastoralist 
could  do  was  to  go  clean  out  of  the  district.  Had 
the  Dunmore  people  listened  thus  dutifully  to   Mr. 


Hunter  of  Eumeralla,  they  would  never  have 
taken  up  Dunmore,  which,  in  the  future,  turned  out 
a  more  valuable  property  than  Eumeralla. 

Nor  would  the  Messrs.  Aplin  have  got  St.  Kitts, 
the  runs  of  Yambuk  and  Tarronc  being  popularly 
supposed  to  absorb  all  the  available  country  between 
their  boundaries.  Mr.  Lemann,  however,  managed 
to  insert  himself  and  his  belongings,  wedge-fashion, 
between  Tarrone  and  Kangatong,  on  the  border  of 
the  Tarrone  Marsh.  Though  small  of  stature,  and 
not  stalwart,  he  held  his  own,  and  fattened  a 
decent  average  of  his  herd  of  iooo  or  1200  head 
annually  until  he  sold  out  to  Mr.  Smith.  Mr. 
Lemann  had  formerly  been  a  kind  of  neighbour  of 
ours,  having  fed  his  herd  previously  in  the  vicinity 
of  a  creek  running  into  the  Upper  Yarra,  near  a  flat 
which,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  known  as  "  Lemann's 
Swamp  "  to  this  day. 

He  was  a  well-informed  man,  who  took  a  great 
interest  in  liberal  politics.  I  well  recollect  his  being 
filled  with  righteous  wrath  at  the  high-handed  act  of 
Rajah  Brooke  in  making  a  clean  sweep  of  a  fleet  of 
pirates.  I  said  then,  and  have  since  been  confirmed 
in  my  opinion,  that  the  gallant  ruler  of  Sarawak  knew 
his  business  better  than  his  Exeter  Hall  critics. 

Mr.  Lemann  had  for  working  overseer  and  general 
stand-between  him  and  personal  exertion  a  country 
Englishman  named  Tom  Cook,  who  with  his  wife 
managed  everything  that  his  stock-rider  Hugh  was 
not  responsible  for.  I  took  some  interest  in  the 
family,  as  we  had  hired  Thomas  aforesaid  from  the 
emigrant  vessel  as  ploughman,  and  he  had  been  in 
our  service   in   that   capacity  at    Heidelberg.      From 


the  fair-haired,  fresh-coloured  English  farm  labourer 
that  he  was  then,  I  watched  his  development 
through  various  stages  of  colonial  experience — 
into  dairyman,  knock-about-man,  bullock-driver,  and 
finally  stock-rider  at  Kangatong.  I  rather  think 
he  had  his  smock-frock  when  he  came  to  us,  with 
English  rustic  tongue  and  gait.  When  I  afterwards 
saw  him  at  Mr.  Smith's  muster  (I  had  sold  Mr.  Gibb, 
the  dealer,  who  was  lifting  the  fat  cattle  there,  an 
additional  drove,  just  started  for  Melbourne,  at  £8 
all  round,  cash)  he  was  quite  the  stock-rider  of  the 
period,  with  neat  boots  and  seat  to  match,  a  sharp 
eye  for  calves,  and,  alas  !  a  colonially-acquired  taste 
for  grog,  and  a  fight  afterwards,  if  possible. 

However,  such  were  only  occasional  recreations, 
between  which  he  was  a  first-rate  worker  and  most 
worthy  fellow.  He  and  his  good  wife  reared  a 
family  of  Australian-born  East  Saxons  ;  his  eldest 
son — a  tall  fellow  with  a  team  of  his  own,  grown  a 
carrier — took  away  the  first  load  of  wool  I  ever  sent 
from  Squattlesea  Mere,  in  1862  or  thereabouts. 

Among  other  things  in  which  Cook  showed  his 
power  of  adaptation  was  the  building  of  a  stone 
cottage  and  dairy  for  Mr.  Lemann.  The  country 
being  of  volcanic  formation,  stone  to  any  amount 
was  on  hand,  and  he  principally  built  the  walls, 
nearly  two  feet  in  thickness,  of  a  very  snug  bachelor 
establishment — a  vast  improvement,  both  in  summer 
and  winter,  upon  the  ordinary  slab  architecture. 

After  deciding  not  to  buy  Mr.  Cox's  heifer  station, 
I  happened  to  be  staying  at  Grasmere,  when  I  met, 
one  evening,  two  strange  gentlemen,  a  mile  or  two 
from  the  place,  coming  along  rather  travel-worn  as 


to  their  steeds.  These  were  my  worthy  friends 
James  Dawson,  now  of  Camperdown,  and  his  friend 
and  partner  Mr.  Selby.  They,  like  Mr.  Lemann, 
had  been  trying  to  make  cattle  pay  on  the  Upper 
Yarra  ranges — had,  like  him,  concluded  to  start  for 
the  west  country,  then  reported  to  be  the  best  grass 
going,  and  not  all  taken  up.  They  speedily  heard 
of  Mr.  Cox  having  a  station  for  sale,  and  he  soon 
after  returning  from  Tasmania,  Mr.  Dawson  closed 
with  him  for  the  £30  or  thereabouts.  Messrs. 
Dawson  and  Selby  shortly  afterwards  brought  up 
their  cattle,  and,  with  their  belongings,  occupied  the 
run.  I  always  suspected  Mr.  Dawson,  who  was 
philologically  inclined,  to  have  extracted  the  name 
Kangatong  from  the  aborigines  subsequently,  and 
christened  the  run  after  his  arrival.  It  was  among 
the  things  not  generally  known  before  his  advent. 
Gradually  and  judiciously,  as  time  passed  on,  Kanga- 
tong was  improved,  and  so  successfully  managed  that 
it  took  rank  as  one  of  the  best  paying  stations  in  the 
district.  Mr.  Dawson  and  his  family  showed  excep- 
tional kindness  towards  the  blacks  who  lived  near 
them.  Kangatong  was  just  outside  of  the  "  tauri," 
or  hereditary  district  of  "  the  Children  of  the  Rocks," 
or  matters  might  not  have  continued  so  pacific,  my 
old  friend  being  of  a  temper  singularly  intolerant 
of  injustice.  But  his  tribelet  had  long  mingled  with 
the  whalers  of  the  Port,  from  which  they  were 
distant  less  than  twenty  miles.  I  doubt  Port  Fairy 
Campbell  and  his  merry  men  had  "  civilised  "  them 
previously — z'.e.  shot  a  few  of  the  more  troublesome 
individuals.  However,  Mr.  Dawson  succeeded  in 
making   a   valuable  collection  of    data,  from    which 


he  was  enabled  to  publish  his  late  work  upon  the 
manners,  language,  and  religious  customs  of  certain 
Australian  aboriginals,  which  has  received  favourable 
mention  from  the  Saturday  and  other  leading 



It  was  in  a  year  "  before  the  gold "  that  I 
had  occasion  to  ride  to  Kalangadoo,  across  the 
Adelaide  border  near  Mount  Gambier.  Kalangadoo 
was  a  cattle  station,  then  the  property  of  the 
Messrs.  Hunter,  Alick,  Jemmy,  and  Frank,  who 
then  dwelt  there,  and  led  the  half-laborious,  half- 
romantic  life  which  to  the  cattle-station  holder  of 
the  day  was  allotted.  The  "  Mount  Gambier  mob," 
as  in  colonial  parlance  described,  was  at  that  time 
composed  of  men  the  majority  of  whom  had 
attained  to  social  distinction.  Not  far  off,  at 
Compton,  lived  Evelyn  Sturt,  to  my  eyes  the 
veritable  fine  fleur  of  the  squatter  type.  In  that 
year,  let  us  say  about  1850,  he  was  a  very  grand- 
looking  fellow — aristocratic,  athletic,  adventurous  ; 
an  explorer,  a  pioneer,  a  prenx  chevalier  in  every 
sense  of  the  word,  a  leading  colonist,  with  a  strong 
dash  of  Bayard  about  him  ;  popular  with  the  men 
of  his  set,  and,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say,  a  general 
favourite  with  the  women. 

He  had   the  features,  the  bold   autocratic   regard 

chap,  xvii  LE  CHEVALIER  BAYARD  171 

with  which  the  early  romance-writers  were  wont  to 
depict  the  Norman  Baron,  whose  part  I  make  no 
doubt  he  would  have  acted  creditably  had  Fate 
but  arranged  his  existence  synchronically. 

The  prejudices  of  the  day  being  against  a  younger 
son's  procuring  a  competence  after  the  simple  and 
masterful  plan  of  his  ancestors,  he  was  constrained 
to  betake  himself  with  his  brethren  and  kinsfolk  to 
far  countries  and  unknown  seas.  And  right  manfully 
had  he,  and  they,  of  whom  more  than  one  name 
shines  brightly  on  the  pages  of  modern  history, 
dared  the  perils  of  sea  and  shore,  of  waste  and 

He  had  been  an  explorer,  was  now  a  pioneer 
squatter  drawing  nearer  and  yet  nearer  to  the 
goal  of  fortune.  He  had  been  rich,  he  had  been 
poor,  had  driven  his  own  bullocks,  and  been 
hardly  pressed  at  times.  But  whatever  the  occupa- 
tion or  garb  in  which  he  elected  to  masquerade 
temporarily,  no  one  ever  looked  upon  Evelyn  Sturt 
without  its  being  strongly  borne  in  upon  his  mind 
that  he  saw  a  gentleman  of  high  degree. 

I  admired  him  with  a  boy's  natural  feeling  of  hero- 
worship.  All  that  I  saw  and  heard  of  him  height- 
ened the  idea.      Not  less  stalwart  than  refined, 

But  in  close  fight  a  champion  grim, 
In  camps  a  leader  sage. 

The  hero  besides  of  numerous  local  legends.  He  had 
leaped  from  a  bridge  into  a  flooded  river  and  rescued 
a  drowning  man.  He  had  offered  to  suck  the  poison 
from  the  wound  of  a  snake-bitten  stock-rider.  He 
had  quelled  the  boldest  bushman  in  a  shearing  row. 


He  was  chief  magistrate,  universal  referee,  good  at 
all  arms,  gallant  and  gay.  The  modern  exemplar 
of  the  good  knight  and  true. 

Willie  Mitchell  was  a  different  type — a  more 
recent  importation — tall,  slight,  delicate  in  frame 
and  constitution — cultured  and  artistic  ;  he  was  the 
nearest  approach  to  the  languid  swell  that  in 
that  robust  and  natural-mannered  epoch  we  had  en- 
countered. He  had  been  enticed  to  Australia  by 
one  of  the  Hunters,  who,  it  appeared  to  us  bush- 
abiding  colonists,  were  always  going  "  home."  They 
had  very  properly  pointed  out  to  him  that  he  could 
obtain  a  high  interest  for  his  money  by  investing  it 
in  stock,  living  like  a  gentleman  the  while — a  point 
upon  which  he  was  decided.  He  had  recently 
purchased  a  small  but  rich  cattle  run  in  the  Mount 
Gambier  district,  where  the  water  was  subterranean, 
and  the  cattle  had  to  be  supplied  by  troughs. 

He  afterwards  sold  this  and  purchased  Langa- 
willi  from  Wright  and  Montgomery,  who  never  did 
a  bit  of  good  after  they  sold  it,  the  most  perfect 
place  and  homestead  in  the  West.  But  this  by  the 

Why  Langa-willi  will  always  be  a  point  of  interest 
in  my  memory,  apart  from  other  reasons,  was  that 
Henry  Kingsley  lived  there  the  chief  part  of  a  year 
as  a  guest  of  Mitchell's.  It  was  at  Langa-willi 
that  Geoffrey  Hamlyn,  that  immortal  work,  the  best 
Australian  novel,  and  for  long  the  only  one,  was 
written.  In  the  well-appointed  sitting-room  of  that 
most  comfortable  cottage  one  can  imagine  the  gifted 
but  somewhat  ill-fated  author  sitting  down  comfort- 
ably  after   breakfast   to   his   "  copy,"   when   his   host 


had  ridden  forth  with  the  overseer  to  make  believe 
to  inspect  the  flocks,  but  in  reality  to  get  an  appetite 
for  lunch. 

I  like  to  think  of  them  spending  the  even- 
ing sociably  in  their  own  way,  both  rather  silent 
men  —  Kingsley  writing  till  he  had  covered  the 
regulation  number  of  sheets — or  finished  the  chapter, 
perhaps,  where  the  bushrangers  came  to  Garoopna  ; 
Mitchell,  reading  steadily,  or  writing  up  his  home 
correspondence  ;  the  old  housekeeper  coming  in  with 
the  glasses  at  ten  o'clock,  then  a  tumbler  of  toddy,  a 
smoke  in  the  verandah,  or  over  the  fire  if  in  winter, 
and  so  to  bed.  Peaceful,  unexciting  days  and  nights, 
good  for  Mitchell,  who  was  not  over-strong,  and  for 
his  talented  guest.  I  suspect  that  in  England,  where 
both  abode  in  later  years,  they  often  looked  back 
with  regret  to  the  peerless  climate,  the  calm  days, 
the  restful  evenings,  spent  so  far  beyond  the  southern 
main  at  Langa  -  willi.  The  surroundings  were 
judiciously  utilised  by  the  author  as  furnishing 
that  flavour  of  verisimilitude  which  added  so  much 
to  the  charm  of  his  fiction.  Baroona,  where  the 
Buckleys  lived,  is  the  name  of  a  property  not  far 
from  Mount  Hesse,  and  Widderin,  the  name  of  Sam 
Buckley's  famous  horse,  is  also  that  of  a  hill  visible 
from  the  plains  of  Skipton. 

Mr.  Mitchell,  I  may  mention,  was  one  of  those 
investors  who  apparently  have  only  to  buy  a  place  to 
make  money  out  of  it.  He  did  so  at  the  Mount 
Gambler  station,  knowing  no  more  of  cattle  and 
their  ways,  when  he  bought  it,  than  of  the  habits  of 
the  alpaca.  He  then  bought  Langa-willi,  with 
20,000    sheep    or    so,    having    the    same     pleasing 


ignorance  of  their  tastes  and  management  ;  held 
it  till  after  the  gold  ;  never  did  any  work  himself; 
spent  a  fair  portion  of  his  time  at  the  Melbourne 
Club.  Finally  sold  out  at  a  handsome  profit  with 
a  large  stock  of  sheep,  and  departed  to  England, 
never  to  return. 

This  looks  like  luck.  Doubtless  there  was  an 
infusion  of  that  most  agreeable  ingredient.  But  I 
have  no  doubt  either  that  the  mild  and  elegant 
William  possessed  a  reasonable  share  of  prudence, 
about  which,  like  his  other  endowments  and  accom- 
plishments, he  said  nothing.  His  first  introduction 
to  our  Port  Fairy  community  was  at  race  time, 
when  he  appeared  with  the  Hunters  and  Sturt, 
riding  a  beautiful  little  blood  mare  called  Medora, 
a  safe  and  easy  mount,  his  long  legs  curiously  near 
the  ground.  There  couldn't  be,  however,  a  nicer 
fellow,  and  Australia  will  ever  owe  him  a  debt  of 
gratitude  for  extending  the  hand  of  generous  and 
delicate  hospitality  to  the  artist  who  first  worthily 
illustrated  her  free  forest  life,  her  adventurous  sons 
and  daughters  fair. 

Charles  Mackinnon,  erst  of  Skye — old  Charles 
as  he  may  possibly  now  be  called,  alas  !  and  may 
not  the  insidious  adjective  be  applied  to  others  of  his 
contemporaries  ? — dwelt  hard  by  with  Mr.  Watson, 
his  partner.  He  yet  lives  in  my  memory  as  the 
kindest  of  men.  "  Kind  as  a  woman "  exactly 
describes  his  disposition  as  exemplified  in  my  case. 
There  were  no  women,  by  the  way,  thereabouts  in 
those  days,  except  black  ones,  who  used  to  fetch  in 
the  horses  on  foot,  carry  water,  and  otherwise  make 
themselves  useful. 


While  at  Kalangadoo  I  was  suddenly  knocked 
over  by  a  feverish  attack — an  exceptional  case  with 
me — then,  as  now,  tolerably  tough  ;  but  an  hour 
or  two  of  that  kind  of  thing  takes  the  conceit  out 
of  the  best  of  us.  Shivering  and  burning  by  turns, 
with  throbbing  headache  and  nausea,  I  had  to  lie 
down  to  it,  and  was  very  bad  all  one  night. 
Charles  Mackinnon  watched  over  me  in  the  most 
patient  manner  the  while.  We  were  new  acquaint- 
ances, too.  I  remember  distinctly  his  appearance 
next  morning  with  a  bowl  of  beef-tea,  with  which 
I  broke  a  twenty-four  hours'  fast. 

Finding  that  I  anxiously  desired  to  become 
possessed  of  a  black  boy,  he  procured  me  a  small 
imp,  so  young  and  callow  that  he  fell  off  the  quiet 
old  horse  (which  Mackinnon  also  lent  me  for  him  to 
ride  home  on),  and,  sprawling  in  the  midst  of  the 
dust,  cried  piteously.  Poor  Charlie  Gambier  !  as  I 
named  him — he  had  the  honour  of  being  christened 
by  his  lordship  the  late  Bishop  Perry  of  Melbourne. 
He  was  also  taught,  with  great  pains  and  persever- 
ance, his  catechism.  He  could  read  his  Bible  well. 
He  turned  out  much  the  sort  of  Christian  that  might 
have  been  expected,  deteriorating  rapidly  after 
the  age  of  fifteen,  and  learning  to  drink  spirits 
and  copy  the  undesirable  white  man  with  painful 

John  Meredith,  a  scion  of  a  well-known  Tasmanian 
family,  was  another  resident  within  hail  of  the  Mount. 
A  stalwart  Australian  in  good  sooth,  6  feet  4  inches, 
or  thereabouts,  in  his  stocking-soles  ;  blue-eyed,  fair- 
bearded,  and  about  twice  as  tall  as  any  old-style 
Cambrian,  I  should  say,  in  the  somewhat  "  rangey " 


country  whence  his  ancestors  came.  I  had  made 
his  acquaintance  by  riding  from  Melbourne  with 
him  a  year  or  so  before.  Having  just  come  over 
from  Tasmania  with  a  faithful  retainer  and  four 
horses,  thence  imported,  he  was  journeying  to  a  run 
which  he  had  bought. 

He  rode  an  immense  black  horse,  which  carried 
him  "  like  a  pony,"  fifteen  stone  and  over  as  his 
weight  probably  then  was  !  I  well  remember  specu- 
lating as  to  how  such  a  horse  might  be  bred — a  grand 
forehand,  clean  fiat  legs,  active,  powerful,  blood-like, 
a  great  jumper,  and  a  good  carriage  horse. 

Let  any  one  try  to  pick  up  an  animal  of  this 
type,  no  matter  what  price  he  is  prepared  to  give. 
He  will  then  realise  the  correctness  of  my  conviction 
then,  wholly  unaltered  by  after -experience,  of  his 
rarity  and  value. 

The  faithful  retainer,  whose  name  was  William 
Godbold,  was  a  grim-looking  "  old  hand,"  who  had, 
however,  risked  his  life  in  a  memorable  flood  in  order 
to  save  a  comrade. 

Years  after  the  faithful  retainer  came  to  work  on 
my  station,  and  being  looked  upon  as  "  such  a  good 
man,"  was  permitted  to  purchase  a  colt  on  credit. 
He  availed  himself  of  the  credit  (and  the  colt)  by 
riding  him  across  the  border  to  Mount  Gambier. 
There  was  no  extradition  treaty  in  those  days.  A 
fawn  bay,  with  a  black  stripe  down  his  back,  a 
shoulder  cross  and  mule  markings  (see  Darwin),  four 
years  old,  fast  and  sound — I  never  was  paid  for  that 
colt,  and  "  still  the  memory  rankles,"  trifling  as  is  the 
deficit  !  Many  debts  have  I  forgiven.  Some,  alas  ! 
have  had  to  be  forgiven   to  me.       But  that  colt — 


"  Chilleno  "  by  name,  own  brother  to  my  best  hack 
"  The  Gaucha  " — I  can't  forgive  that  one. 

On  my  way  out  and  back — it  was  some  four  or 
five  days'  ride — I  stayed  at  various  stations.  It  was 
de  regie  in  those  days,  and  I  don't  know  a  pleasanter 
ending  to  a  day's  ride  than  meeting  a  hospitable 
squatter  in  his  own  house.  You  have  had  just  work 
enough  to  tire  you  reasonably,  to  make  you  enjoy  a 
cheerful  meal,  some  fresh  unstudied  talk  (people  are 
twice  as  confidential  in  the  bush,  even  with  strangers, 
as  they  are  in  town),  a  smoke  in  the  verandah,  and 
the  sound,  peaceful  sleep  that  follows  all.  Then  the 
awakening  in  the  lovely  fresh  bush  air,  winter  or 
summer,  the  feeling  is  ennobling,  invigorating.  As 
he  fills  his  lungs  and  expands  his  breast  therewith 
the  wayfarer  feels  a  better  and  wiser  man.  Old 
Mr.  Robertson,  a  Scottish  settler,  had  a  lovely 
station  on  the  Wannon.  To  his  homestead  travellers 
chiefly  gravitated  for  reasons  which  he  summarised 
somewhat  plainly  on  one  occasion. 

"  Don't  think  I  believe  you  come  to  see  old 
Robertson,"  he  said.  "  In  the  summer  it's  the  fruit 
that  fetches  you,  and  in  the  winter  Mary's  jam." 
Now,  Miss  Robertson's  preserves  and  conserves  were 
the  admiration  of  the  whole  district,  while  the  orchard 
in  the  season  was  a  marvel  for  fruit  of  every  kind 
and  sort. 

I  wish  I  could  show  those  good  people  and  certain 
conceited  gardeners  who  persist  in  pruning  and  cutting 
every  lower  limb  of  their  fruit  trees,  the  orchard  at 
Wando  Vale,  as  in  those  days.  Great  umbrageous 
apple  trees  with  long  lateral  branches  trailing  on  the 
ground,  covered  with  fruit  of  the  finest  size  and  quality. 


178  OLD  MELBOURNE  MEMORIES      chap.xvii 

The  remarkable  thing  about  these  apple  trees  was 
that  they  had  never  been  grafted  or  pruned.  They 
all  came  from  the  seed  of  a  barrel  of  decayed  apples, 
and  which,  being  of  many  different  varieties,  were,  as 
the  old  gentleman  expressed  it,  "  each  better  than 
the  other."  That  such  is  not  the  general  result  I  am 
aware,  being  a  bit  of  a  gardener  myself,  but  it  was 
the  fact  in  this  instance,  as  I  saw  and  tasted  the  fruit, 
and  have  the  word  of  the  owner  for  it  besides,  who 
planted  the  trees  with  his  own  hands. 

Mr.  Alfred  Arden  I  remember  visiting  at  Hilgay, 
as  also  the  late  John  Coldham  of  Grassdale.  What 
a  lovely  bit  of  country  his  was  !  And  is  not  all  the 
Wannon  the  "  pick  of  creation  " — Colac,  perhaps, 
excepted  ?  Low  deep-swarded  hills,  rolling  downs, 
and  thickly-timbered  slopes,  all  wheat  land,  and  forty 
bushels  to  the  acre  at  that.  Too  good  for  this  wicked 
world  almost  !  The  men  who  took  it  up  first  had 
hardly  sufficient  inducement  to  exert  themselves. 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  being  too  well  off.  I 
am  aware  it  is  not  good  for  me,  above  all  men, 
but  I  should  like  to  have  a  try  at  bearing  it 
again,  and  risk 

His  dangerous  wealth 
With  all  the  woes  it  brings. 



WHEN  we  came  to  Melbourne  in  1840  we  might 
have  bought  all  the  land  between  Prince's  Bridge  and 
Upper  Toorak  for  the  merest  trifle  above  "  upset 
price."  As  to  Sandridge,  St.  Kilda,  and  Brighton, 
they  might  almost  have  been  "  taken  up,"  so  low  was 
the  estimate  of  their  value  by  the  colonists  of  the 
period.  Mr.  Dendy  did  pre-empt  5000  acres  hard 
by  the  city,  at  Brighton,  under  the  special  survey 
regulations  which  then  obtained,  at  ^1  per  acre.  We 
certainly  secured  a  trifle  of  seventy  acres,  upon  which 
the  viceregal  residence  of  Toorak  was  afterwards 
erected.  But  some  frivolous  objection  to  the  agri- 
cultural properties  of  the  soil  weighed  with  the  head 
of  the  family,  who,  after  a  few  unimportant  purchases 
of  town  allotments — such  as  two  acres  in  Flinders 
Street  running  back  to  the  lane  so  named  and  ad- 
joining Degraves'  buildings,  a  half-acre  near  to  the 
corner  of  Collins  and  Elizabeth  Streets,  another  in 
Bourke  Street,  besides  a  dozen  more  in  various  parts 
of  Melbourne  —  finally  decided  to  build  and  per- 
manently reside  at  Heidelberg. 


This  romantically-named  suburb  was  seven  miles 
from  Melbourne,  with  an  unmade  road  through  black 
soil  of  considerable  richness,  and  a  tenacity,  when 
resolved  into  mud,  which  I  have,  during  much  after- 
experience,  rarely  seen  equalled.  It  might  have 
appeared  to  some  persons  a  matter  of  supererogation 
this  planting  one's  self  so  many  miles  away  from  an 
infant  settlement,  such  as  Melbourne  then  was.  A 
matter  involving  loss  of  time,  too,  expense  in  transit, 
besides  exile  from  whatever  society  was  then  avail- 
able. But  these  considerations  availed  not  against  the 
charming  prospect  of  a  rural  home,  a  country-house 
surrounded  by  an  estate  of  fertile  land,  bordered  by 
the  clear-flowing  Yarra,  and  glorified  by  a  distant 
prospect  of  the  Australian  Alps.  But  chiefly 
alluring  were  the  persuasive  tongue,  the  sanguine 
predictions,  and  the  enjoyable  al  fresco  entertain- 
ments of  Mr.  R.  H.  Brown,  a  social  celebrity  of 
the  day,  fashionable  and  distinguished,  generally 
known,  from  his  reminiscent  enthusiasm  on  the 
subject  of  the  grand  European  tour,  as  Continental 

This  sentimental  speculator,  most  refined  of 
land  agents,  had,  either  personally  or  as  deputy  for 
a  firm  of  Sydney  capitalists,  purchased  a  block  of 
land  extending  nearly  from  the  Darebin  Creek  to 
the  village,  and  comprising  the  estates  of  Chclsworth, 
Waverley,  Hartlands,  and  Leighton.  There  was  also 
a  section  named  Maltravcrs.  I  am  not  sure,  indeed, 
whether  he  did  not  christen  the  whole  block  "  Mal- 
travcrs," in  compliment  to  the  Master  upon  whose 
melancholy,  philosophical,  resistless  hero  so  many  of 
the  viveurs  of  the  day  fashioned  themselves. 

xvni      THE  CHRISTENING  OF  HEIDELBERG        181 

Slight,  vivacious,  soigne"  in  dress  and  courteous 
of  manner,  a  good  business  man  (was  he  not 
a  bank  director  in  his  leisure  moments,  that  is, 
when  he  was  not  giving  dinners  and  dejeuners, 
getting  up  picnics,  improvising  balls  and  generally 
faisant  Vagreable  all  round  ?),  he  managed  to  "  place  " 
Heidelberg  at  a  considerable  advance  upon  the 
original  purchase  money. 

I  can  see  him  now  in  the  centre  of  a  group  of 
admiring  friends,  chiefly  of  the  fair  sex,  standing 
on  one  of  the  heights  which  overlooked  the 
meadows  of  the  Yarra.  "  There,  my  dear  madam, 
permit  me  to  direct  your  gaze.  Do  you  not  observe 
the  silver  thread  of  the  river  winding  through  that 
exquisite  green  valley  ?  It  reminds  me  so  vividly 
of  the  gliding  Neckar,  and,  alas !  (here  a  most 
telling  sigh)  of  scenes,  of  friends,  loved  and  lost.  I 
can  fancy  that  I  look  at  my  ever-remembered,  ever- 
regretted  Heidelberg  !  Those  slopes  rising  from  the 
farther  river-shore  will  be  terraced  vineyards  ;  and 
there,  where  you  can  faintly  discern  the  snow 
pinnacle  on  yon  spur  of  the  Australian  Alps,  I 
can  imagine  the  grand  outline  of  the  Hartz  Moun- 
tains. It  is,  it  shall  be,  Heidelberg  !  Charles,  open 
more  champagne.  We  must  christen  this  thrice- 
favoured  spot,  on  this  trebly-auspicious  day,  worthily, 
irrevocably  !  " 

In  some  such  fashion  Heidelberg  was  named, 
and,  what  was  more  to  the  purpose,  sold.  It  is 
undeniably  strong  as  to  scenery,  superior  as  to  soil  ; 
it  has  water  privileges  ;  but  seeing  that  all  this 
happened  a  trifle  over  forty  years  agone,  it  may 
strike  the  original   investors  who  still    hold    a   pro- 


portion  of  the  ground,  that  they  might  have  laid  out 
their  cash  to  greater  advantage,  and  that  they  have 
waited  a  good  while  for  that  advance  in  prices 
which  will  recoup  everything. 

Heidelberg,  thus  sponsored,  took  rank  as  a 
fashionable  suburb,  and  divers  personages,  according 
to  an  inevitable  natural  law,  were  attracted  thereto. 
Captain  George  Brunswick  Smyth,  formerly  of  her 
Majesty's  50th  Regiment,  purchased  Chelsworth. 
Mr.  David  M'Arthur  came  next  to  him.  Then 
Waverley  and  Hartlands,  the  Rev.  John  Bolden, 
Mr.  Hawdon  at  Banyule,  and  later  on  Dr.  Martin, 
beyond  him  again. 

Still  more  distant,  on  the  Rosanna  estate,  dwelt  no 
less  a  potentate  than  Mr.  Justice  Willis,  the  Supreme 
Court  Rhadamanthus  of  the  day,  who  must  have 
expended  considerably  more  than  half  his  time  in 
driving  in  his  carriage  and  pair  into  Melbourne  and 
back  along  the  miry,  almost  impassable  track  into 
which  the  winter  rains  invariably  converted  the  road. 

This  not  undistinguished  legal  celebrity  we  had 
known  in  Sydney,  and  he  presented  himself  to  my 
youthful  intelligence  as  a  good-natured,  mild-man- 
nered old  gentleman,  with  whom  I  used  to  go  quail 
and  duck  shooting  in  the  meadows  bordering  the 
Yarra  on  Mr.  Hawdon's  and  neighbouring  estates. 
On  these  occasions  the  late  Mr.  Archibald  Thorn, 
who  rented  part  of  Banyule  from  Mr.  Hawdon, 
often  accompanied  us.  And  a  very  deadly  shot  he 

The  Judge  shot  fairly  well,  and  after  a  decent 
morning's  sport  was  genial  and  gracious  in  a  marked 
degree.      But  when  he  doffed  the  russet  tweeds  and 

xvin      THE  CHRISTENING  OF  HEIDELBERG        183 

donned  the  ermine,  he  became  utterly  transformed. 
It  was  averred,  too,  altogether  for  the  worse.  His 
impatience  of  contradiction,  his  acerbity  of  manner, 
and  his  infirmity  of  temper,  were  painful  to  witness, 
and  dangerous  to  encounter.  They  landed  him  in 
contentions  with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  and 
ultimately  led  to  his  suspension  by  the  Governor- 
General,  a  rare  and  exceptional  proceeding. 

I   quote  here  verbatim  from  my  journal,  of  date 
Wednesday,  3rd  August  1841  : — 

Nothing  particular  happened  on  the  farm  to-day,  but  the 
whole  of  Melbourne  was  in  a  commotion  about  His  Honour 
Judge  Willis.  It  appears  that  His  Honour  having  said  that 
he  would  commit  anybody  who  offered  to  serve  the  order  upon 
him  to  go  to  Sydney,  signed  by  the  three  judges  there  resident, 
as  being  illegal,  was  met  by  Messrs.  Carrington  and  Ebden, 
who  tendered  the  order  to  him,  and,  upon  his  refusing  to  take 
it,  actually  threw  it  at  him,  upon  which  he  immediately  com- 
mitted them  to  gaol.  There  was  a  great  crowd,  many  of 
whom  supported  the  Judge,  but  others  the  prisoners.  Some 
gentlemen,  however,  were  present  and  saw  the  insult  offered. 

On    the    following    day's    page     I     find     further 

allusion  to  this  "  high-toned  "  episode  in  Melbourne's 

early  life. 

Thursday,  4th  August  1841. 

The  gentlemen  who  insulted  the  Judge  yesterday  were 
brought  up  before  the  Magistrates  in  order  that  they 
might  be  committed  to  take  their  trial.  However,  strange  to 
say,  in  spite  of  the  evidence  of  four  or  five  respectable 
persons  who  swore  to  the  outrage,  the  worthy  gentlemen  were 
acquitted.  There  were,  however,  upon  the  Bench  several 
personal  enemies  of  the  Judge.  Many  persons  are  of  opinion 
that  the  decision  is  infamous. 

It  will  be  seen  that  we  then  distinctly  sided  with 
His   Irascibility,  and  would  doubtless   have  been   a 


vigorous  partisan  against  the  "  personal  enemies " 
had  we  written  for  the  press  of  the  period.  How- 
ever, in  spite  of  our  sympathies,  and  those  of  other 
well-meaning  friends,  His  Honour  Mr.  Justice  Willis 
was  compelled  to  go  to  Sydney,  thence  to  England. 
It  was  understood  that  he  there  gained  a  technical 
victory,  but  had  a  hint  to  resign. 

Mr.  Thomas  Wills  owned  "  Lucerne,"  close  by 
Alphington,  the  village  on  the  Darebin  Creek  since 
called  into  being  and  so  named.  He  had  a 
fancy  for  the  great  fodder  plant,  and  was  the  first 
proprietor  in  the  neighbourhood  to  lay  down  any 
considerable  breadth  of  land  with  it.  From  it,  or  as 
a  souvenir  of  the  world-renowned  lake,  the  estate  was 

I  don't  know  that  the  Heidelberg  proprietors 
could  be  called  a  fortunate  community.  Some- 
thing of  the  nature  of  disaster  happened  to  all 
of  them.  Possibly  in  the  course  of  three  or  four 
decades  an  average  of  misfortune  occurs  in  most 
families.  But  our  district  was  exceptional.  The 
wreck  of  the  London  brought  mourning  and  life- 
long grief  into  one  family.  Cheery,  kindly  Joe 
Hawdon,  the  pioneer,  the  explorer,  the  jolly  squire 
of  Banyule,  died  when  scarce  over  middle  age.  The 
Bolden  family  lost  two  sons  who  had  arrived  at 
man's  estate — one  killed  by  a  fall  from  his  horse  ; 
one,  a  young  officer  rising  in  the  service,  by  a  tiger 
in  India.  Our  house,  endeared  by  many  memories, 
was  burned  by  an  incendiary,  still  undiscovered.  A 
tree  fell  on  our  good  friend  and  neighbour,  Mr, 
M'Arthur,  and  very  nearly  crushed  the  life  out  of 
him.      Captain  Smyth  died  young,  and  Lucerne  has 

xvm      THE  CHRISTENING  OF  HEIDELBERG        185 

long  been  untenanted   by  any  representative  of  the 
Wills  family. 

Some  of  these  fine  days,  they  tell  me,  there  will 
be  a  railway  to  Heidelberg.  Then  the  slopes  will 
be  cut  up  into  building  sites,  the  river  meadows 
irrigated,  or  turned  into  market  gardens  and 
creameries.  The  Australian  Alps  will  be  more 
visible  to  the  naked  eye  than  ever.  Some  squatter 
from  Riverina  or  Queensland,  who  has  just  disposed 
of  his  stations  for  half-a-million  to  a  syndicate,  will 
build  an  imitation  of  the  historic  Castle,  with  the 
Great  Tun,  to  be  filled  with  White  Yering.  Dances 
of  vignerons  or  happy  peasants  will  be  frequent ;  and 
Mr.  R.  H.  Brown,  if  still  in  the  flesh,  may  see  his 
prophetic  vision  so  nearly  fulfilled  that  it  will  hardly 
be  worth  his  while  to  return  to  a  continental  Elysium. 
But,  sentiment  apart,  there  was  a  flavour  of  real 
country  life  about  the  district,  protected  as  it  was 
from  intrusion  on  the  east  and  north-east  by  the  deep 
unforded  river,  in  which  more  than  one  death  took 
place  from  drowning.  Heidelberg,  apparently,  always 
had  attractions  for  men  whose  sympathies  lay  in  the 
direction  of  stud  farms  and  the  improvement  of  stock. 
Chelsworth  then,  as  later  on,  was  the  home  of  pedi- 
gree shorthorns,  Captain  Brunswick  Smyth  having 
imported  cows  of  very  blue  blood,  which  passed  into 
Mr.  Bolden's  possession,  and  were  incorporated  with 
the  Grasmere  herd.  Mahomet,  Young  Mussulman, 
Lady  Vane  and  her  daughter  were  located  at 
Leighton  ;  whilst  "  Snoozer  "  by  "  Muley  Moloch," 
and  other  sires  of  high  lineage,  abode  hard  by. 
Yes  ;  in  some  respects  the  devoted  admirer  of  Bulwer 
Lytton  had  not  over-coloured  the  landscape.     Heidel- 

186  OLD  MELBOURNE  MEMORIES      chap,  xviii 

berg  was  undeniably  picturesque,  and  had  climatic 
advantages.  It  was  cooler  than  the  sand-dunes  of 
Brighton  and  St.  Kilda,  than  the  low  hills  of  Toorak, 
than  the  river  meadow  upon  which  Melbourne  proper 
then  chiefly  stood.  Waves  of  mountain  air  were 
wafted  from  the  Alps,  on  which,  though  many  miles 
distant,  the  snow  was  clearly  visible.  Those  of 
us  who,  in  after  years,  were  members  of  the  old 
Melbourne  Club  in  Lower  Collins  Street,  often 
preferred  a  longish  night  ride  for  the  immunity 
from  mosquitoes  which  Heidelberg  then  afforded. 

The  river  meadows  by  the  Yarra  were  composed 
of  a  deep,  black,  fertile  loam,  eminently  suited  for 
orchards,  cereals,  and  root  crops.  Taking  into  con- 
sideration the  quality  of  the  soil,  the  proximity  of 
the  river,  the  variety  of  the  landscape,  no  suburb 
would  have  equalled  Heidelberg  in  attractiveness 
had  it  not  been  handicapped  by  distance  from  the 
metropolis.  Rail,  road  traffic,  and  settlement — all 
appeared  to  have  gone  north,  south,  west ;  anywhere 
but  towards  Heidelberg. 

Now  that  every  foot  of  building  land  near 
Melbourne  has  been  bought  and  built  upon — has 
become  "  terraced  slopes,"  in  the  evil  sense  of  modern 
overcrowding,  perhaps  the  beneficent  Heidelberg  and 
Alphington  Railway  will  open  up  the  untouched 
glades  which  still  silently  overlook  the  murmuring 
river,  still  lie  hushed  to  sleep  in  the  shadow  of  the 
great  Australian  mountain  chain. 



Oh  !  the  merry  days, 

The  merry  days,  when  we  were  young  ! 

SANG  the  ladye  fay-re.  I  can  hear  the  clear  rich 
tones  even  now.  Ah  me  !  what  days  were  those  ! 
Why  will  they  not  come  back  ?  We  are  scarcely  of 
such  hoar  antiquity  that  we  may  not  enjoy  the 
present  reasonably,  when  "  gracieuses "  dames  and 
demoiselles  look  brightly  on  us  with  those  haunting 
eyes  of  theirs.  But,  oh  !  the  awakening  at  dawn, 
that  is  when  we  find  the  difference.  How  glorious 
was  it  to  regain  consciousness  from  out  a  realm  of 
poet  dreams,  with  the  certainty  of  a  day  of  stirring 
world -strife  before  us.  At  the  reveille  of  that  en- 
chanted time,  how  gaily  the  knight  donned  harness 
and  mounted  steed,  serenely  conscious  of  his  ability 
to  perform  his  devoir  "  right  manful  under  shield," 
confident  of  winning  his  guerdon,  even,  perchance,  a 
smile  from  the  Queen  of  Beauty  herself. 

Now,    alas,    the    sky   seems    lowering    and    sad- 
coloured,  the  lines  of  the  foe  ever  serried  and  close 


ranked,  the  blows  come  shrewder  and  more  difficult 
of  parry.  More  than  once  has  the  knight  been,  by- 
trusty  squire  or  faithful  friend, 

Dragged  from  amid  the  horses'  feet, 
With  dinted  shield  and  helmet  beat. 

We  were  ever  and  anon  minded  to  answer  in  the 
affirmative  to  the  "  rendez  vous  !  "  of  Fate  so  persist- 
ently repeated.  Yet  will  we  forward  still,  parrying 
lance-thrust  here,  fending  sword-play  there.  Many 
a  trusty  comrade  is  down  ;  we  miss  the  cheery  tones 
of  a  voice  that  sounded  never  far  from  our  right  arm, 
in  feast  or  in  foray.  Yet  still  en  avant  seems  more 
natural  than  halt  or  retreat. 

Ye  gods  !  what  a  spring  morning  was  that  on 
which  we  hurled  ourselves  out  of  bed  at  Woodlands, 
with  the  full,  absorbing,  wildly-exciting  knowledge, 
even  in  that  first  moment  of  consciousness,  that  The 
Steeplechase  was  to  be  run  that  day — an  Olympic 
game  in  which  we  were  to  share.  A  truly  classic 
conflict  in  which  the  competitors  were  mostly  men 
of  mark,  where  the  spectators  were  friends,  relatives, 
and  sympathisers,  and  where  divine  personages  in 
the  shape  of  various  ladies  of  the  period,  lovely  and 
beloved,  were  to  gaze  upon  our  prowess,  thrill  at 
our  daring,  and  "  weep  when  a  warrior  nobly  falls." 

We  had  a  warrior,  Colonel  Acland  Anderson — 
poor  fellow  ;  we  had  four  squatters,  Molesworth  and 
Rawdon  Greene,  Edmund  M'Neill,  and  "  the  duffer 
who  writes  this "  reminiscence.  Last,  not  least, 
we  had  a  Chief-Justice  in  posse.  He  wasn't  Sir 
William  in  those  days,  only  a  hard -riding,  hard- 
working, manifestly  rising  barrister, perhaps  not  inaptly 


described  by  a  maid-servant  from  the  Emerald  Isle, 
at  a  house  where  he  had  called,  and  who,  in  the 
fluster  of  the  interview,  had  forgotten  his  name,  as 
"  a  mighty  plisant  young  man  with  foxy  whiskers." 

We  were  a  goodly  company,  all  staying  at  Wood- 
lands for  a  week  or  two — have  people  leisure  and 
inclination  to  do  this  sort  of  thing  now  ? — and  this 
steeplechase  had  been  improvised  to  take  place  on 
the  plain  before  Woodlands  House,  as  an  acceptable 
variation  of  the  ordinary  programme,  which  comprised 
other  entertainments  besides  the  orthodox  dance 
which  ended  the  day.  Was  there  not  also  another 
legal  celebrity  not  as  yet  graced  with  the  accolade  ? 
Cheery,  cultured,  courteous  Redmond  Barry — did 
he  not  write  a  charade  duly  enacted  by  us  youths 
and  maidens,  besides  coaching  us  in  "  The  Chough 
and  Crow  "  and  divers  glees  and  part-songs  ? 

In  that  Arcadian  period  what  a  nice  place 
Woodlands  was !  Somehow  one  could  afford  to 
take  life  more  easily  in  those  days.  The  sons  of 
the  house  were  sometimes  up  the  country  at  their 
stations,  especially  at  shearing  time,  but  managed  to 
be  a  good  deal  at  the  old  home.  And  when  they 
were  there  the  chatelaine  wisely  took  heed  to  make 
home  a  pleasant  place  ;  to  that  end  inviting  friends 
and  well-wishers,  among  whom  I  had  the  privilege 
to  be  inscribed.  Great  were  the  doings  done,  and 
very  pleasant  the  days  we  spent  there. 

Thus  Woodlands  stands  before  me,  looking  back 
over  those  half- forgotten  days,  as  "  the  country-house  " 
par  excellence  of  the  period. 

Neither  a  farm  nor  yet  a  large  estate,  it  was 
something  between  the  two,  while  the  household  and 


the  menage  generally  were  more  in  accordance  with 
the  habitudes  of  English  country-house  life  than 
often  obtains  in  Australia. 

Mr.  Pomeroy  Greene,  resolving  to  make  Victoria 
his  future  home,  had  emigrated  after  a  comprehensive 
fashion — not  now  so  common.  He  brought  with 
him,  in  addition  to  his  large  family,  a  house,  with 
men-servants  and  maid-servants,  horses  and  carriages, 
farm  tools  and  implements,  nearly  everything  which 
he  could  have  needed  had  he  proceeded  to  free-select 
an  uninhabited  island.  Was  there  not  "Rory  O'More," 
a  son  of  "  Irish  Birdcatcher  "  ;  "  Nora  Creina,"  dam 
by  "  Drone  "  ;  the  graceful  "  Taglioni,"  and  the  hunter 
"  Pickwick,"  a  big,  powerful,  Galvvay-looking  nag,  up  to 
any  weight  over  any  height,  and  not  too  refined  to  draw 
a  cart  or  do  a  day's  harrowing  on  a  pinch?  An  exceed- 
ingly useful  stamp  of  horse  in  a  new  country,  most 
of  us  will  admit,  and  quite  worth  his  passage  money. 

Also,  in  this  connection,  came  Tom  Brannigan,  an 
active,  resolute,  humorous  young  Irishman,  with  a 
decided  family  likeness  to  one  Mickey  Free  about 
him.  He  was  stud  groom,  and  a  model  retainer 
during  the  first  years  of  the  settlement  of  Woodlands. 
Let  me  not  forget  Smith,  the  butler,  a  decorous, 
solemn  personage  of  staid  demeanour  and  faultless 
accuracy  of  get-up,  an  occasional  twinkle  of  the 
eye  only  at  times  betraying  that  he  belonged  to 
the  Milesian  and  not  the  Saxon  branch  of  his  widely- 
dispersed  family  and  vocation. 

Just  thirteen  miles  from  Melbourne,  Woodlands 
was  a  pleasant  morning  or  afternoon's  ride — an  easy 
drive.  You  left  Melbourne  by  the  Flemington 
road,  traversed   the   Moonee  Ponds,  finally  debouch- 


ing  upon  the  plain,  whence  you  saw  the  house,  built 
bungalow  fashion  upon  a  wooded  slope,  with  flanking 
wings  and  a  courtyard,  verandah-encircled  likewise, 
facing  eastward  towards  Sunbury,  and  on  the  west 
having  an  extensive  outlook  over  plain  and  forest, 
with  the  sea  in  the  distance.  The  landscape  was 
extensive,  "  wide  and  wild,  and  open  to  the  air,"  but 
sufficiently  wooded  to  prevent  the  expression  of  bleak- 
ness. These  thoughts  possibly  do  not  occur  to  me 
as  I  dress  provisionally  in  shooting  coat,  slippers,  etc., 
and  rush  out  to  the  stables  to  look  at  the  gallant 
steed  that  is  to  carry  Caesar  and  his  fortunes,  a 
game-looking  Arab  grey,  fast  and  a  good  fencer,  the 
property  of  one  John  Fitzgerald  Leslie  Foster — a 
guest  at  the  time,  and  lent  to  me  for  the  occasion. 
Only  been  a  few  days  off  grass,  though  otherwise  in 
good  buckle.  The  certainty  of  his  being  short  of  con- 
dition does  not  weigh  with  me,  however,  so  anxious 
am  I  to  have  a  throw  in  and  sport  my  tops  and  cords. 
Tom  Brannigan  thinks  "  he  has  a  great  spring  in  him 
entirely,"  and  encourages  me  to  hope  that  a  lucky 
chance  may  land  me  a  winner.  He  relates  an  anecdote 
of  his  brother  Jim,  a  well-known  steeplechase  jock, 
in  a  race  where  the  fences  were  terrific.  One  of 
the  country  people  was  heard  to  say,  "  Sure  the  most 
of  them  would  break  their  necks,  but  Jim  Brannigan 
and  the  ould  mare  would  have  a  leg  to  spare,  some- 
how or  somehow."  Much  comforted  by  this  apposite 
reference,  I  shut  the  door,  and  inspect  the  rest  of  the 
stable.      It  is  not  a  very  small  one. 

Having  a  look  for  the  hundredth  time  at  "  Rory 
O'More" — a  beautiful  brown  horse,  showing  great 
quality,  with  a  strong  likeness  to  "  The  Premier  "  in 


more  than  one  of  his  points,  and  glancing  at  a  couple 
of  yearlings — I  betake  myself  to  an  inspection  of 
the  battle-steeds  of  the  day. 

They  are  a  goodish  lot,  and  in  that  state  and 
condition  of  fife  which  impress  on  me  the  idea 
that,  unless  under  the  favouring  accident  of  a  general 
boaleversement,  my  chance  of  winning  is  slender 
indeed.  First  of  all  stands  an  elegant  blood-looking 
grey,  the  property  of  the  heir -apparent,  sheeted, 
hooded,  and  done  up  in  great  style.  He  is  as  "  fit 
as  a  fiddle,"  and  will  have  on  his  back  an  exceed- 
ingly cool  and  determined  rider — who,  like  Mr. 
Stripes,  "  will  not  throw  a  chance  away." 

Next  to  him  is  a  powerful,  hunter -looking  bay, 
an  animal  which  would  fetch  about  four  hundred 
guineas  in  England.  Let  me  describe  him — remem- 
bering as  I  do  every  hair  in  his  skin.  I  had  ridden 
him  more  than  once,  and  the  reader,  if  he  has  been 
home  lately,  will  note  if  I  have  overrated  his  price. 
A  three-quarter  or  four-fifths  bred  horse,  bay  with 
black  points,  save  one  white  hind  leg.  A  light,  well- 
shaped  head,  a  good  neck,  and  shoulders  so  oblique 
that  it  took  the  length  of  the  snaffle  bridle  to  pay 
out  for  rein  ;  flat  and  clean  bone  under  the  knee, 
deep  across  the  heart,  powerful  quarter,  with 
muscular  thighs  and  well -bent  hocks.  He  would 
have  been  quite  in  the  English  fashion  of  the 
present  day,  as  he  had  a  shortish  pulled  tail. 
Height  about  fifteen  hands  three  inches,  on  short 

This  was  "Thur'mpogue,"  the  property  of  Edmund 
M'Neill,  of  the  firm  of  Hall  and  M'Neill,  near  Daisy 
Hill.       The    portrait    is    that    of    a    weight-carrier, 


doubtless.  And  so  he  needed  to  be,  the  aforesaid 
Edmund  being  of  the  unusual  height  of  six  and 
a  half  feet.  Though  not  particularly  broad,  it  will 
be  seen  that  he  could  not  be  a  very  light  man.  In 
another  box  stands  a  long,  low,  blood-like  chestnut 
horse.  He  winces  and  lays  back  his  ears  after  a 
fashion  which  indicates  temper,  as  the  boy  pulls  the 
sheet  off  at  my  instigation.  The  test  is  a  true  one. 
What  little  he  has  is  proverbially  bad,  and  he  has 
deposited  so  many  riders  in  unexpected  localities  by 
"  mount,  and  stream,  and  sea,"  that  a  less  resolute 
horseman  than  the  Chief  would  have  fought  shy  of 
him  as  an  investment.  He  is  in  great  form,  how- 
ever, and  as  hard  as  nails,  his  close  bright  golden 
coat  shining  like  shot  satin.  I  involuntarily  give 
vent  to  an  exclamation,  which  denotes  that  my  own 
and  other  people's  chances  have  receded  since  inter- 
viewing "  The  Master  of  the  Rolls,"  for  such  is  the 
legal  luminary  I  now  behold. 

Back  to  bedroom  and  bath ;  for  by  this  time 
dressing  has  set  in  seriously  all  over  the  house,  and 
the  bachelors'  apartments,  in  a  separate  wing,  resound 
with  the  careless  talk  and  frequent  laughter  which  are 
sure  to  emanate  from  a  number  of  friends  in  the 
golden  prime.  All  sorts  of  opinions  are  volunteered 
about  the  merits  of  each  other's  horses,  sarcastic 
hints  as  to  horsemanship  and  condition,  laughing 
retorts  and  confident  anticipations,  are  to  be  heard 
on  every  side,  welling  out  from  the  bed-chambers  and 
along  the  corridors,  into  which,  with  the  exuberance 
of  youth,  the  inmates,  in  various  stages  of  apparelling, 
likewise  overflow. 

We  all  met  at  breakfast,  of  course.      Talk  about 



suppers  !  There  may  be,  doubtless,  a  fair  share  of 
enjoyable  "  causerie,"  or  even  serious  love-making,  at 
supper,  "  when  wit  and  wine  sparkle  instead  of  the 
sun  "  ;  but  for  real,  honest,  hearty  enjoyment,  when 
all  is  sanguine  anticipation  of  excitement  or  success, 
with  good  weather,  good  spirits,  and  good  com- 
pany, commend  me  to  a  country-house  at  break- 
fast time,  where  the  sexes  are  judiciously  mingled, 
and  a  hunt,  a  steeplechase,  or  a  picnic  is  on  the 
cards.  There  may  be  a  few  things  better  in  this 
life  of  ours.  If  so,  I  have  seldom  come  across 

Of  course  it  was  then  and  there  arranged  who 
were  to  drive  whom — what  traps,  carriages,  hacks, 
and  so  on  were  to  be  requisitioned.  The  organisa- 
tion even  went  so  far — if  my  memory  serves  me — as 
that  every  knight  should  be  presented  with  the 
colours  of  some  ladyc  fayrc — after  humble  petition 
on  bended  knee  —  by  my  halidome  ! — which  he 
doubtless  swore  to  carry  to  the  front,  or  nobly 

I  don't  retain  a  clear  account  of  the  preliminaries 
on  the  morning  of  the  "Grand  National";  but  I  think 
we  must  have  made  as  much  fuss  and  given  as  much 
trouble.  When,  about  mid-day,  we  turned  out  on  the 
plain  below  Woodlands  House,  where  the  carriages 
were  drawn  up  and  the  spectators  assembled  in 
expectation  of  our  appearance,  the  excitement  had 
passed  from  the  stage  of  tireless  energy  to  that  of 
fervent  concentration.  Each  man  wore  an  aspect  of 
settled,  unflinching  resolution,  such  as  might  have 
befitted,  in  an  after-time, 


Those  who  ran  the  tilt  that  day 
With  Death,  and  bore  their  lives  away 
From  the  Balaclava  Charge  ! 

Out  we  came  at  last,  a  fairish  field  to  look  at, 
men  and  horses,  though  I  say  it.  I  should  premise 
that  the  leaps  were  composed  of  two-railed  fences, 
brushed  underneath,  about  fifteen  in  all,  from  four 
feet  to  four  feet  six  in  height,  and  sufficiently  stiff, 
as  the  event  proved. 

On  the  upper  or  eastern  side  of  the  course,  where 
shade  was  procurable,  were  entrenched  the  carriages 
and  non-combatants,  among  whom  Mr.  Redmond 
Barry,  Mr.  Leslie  Foster,  William  Anderson,  "  Count  " 
Ogilby,  and  other  disengaged  cavaliers,  who  did  their 
devoir  in  entertaining  the  ladies  and  judiciously 
criticising  the  field.  Jimmy  Ellis,  friend  and  pastoral 
partner  of  one  William  Stawell,  a  brisk,  black-bearded, 
hard-riding  little  Milesian,  was  starter  and  clerk  of  the 
course.  Here  we  came  up  for  the  last  time,  more  or 
less  soberly  or  skittishly,  to  the  post,  with  cords  and 
tops,  silk  jackets  and  caps,  "  accoutred  proper,"  full 
jockey  costume  being  de  rigueur.  A  correct  card  of 
the  race  would  probably  have  read  as  follows.  The 
colours  of  the  riders  may  have  partially  faded  out  of 
memory's  ken,  inasmuch  as  "  it  was  many  and  many 
a  year  ago." 

1.  Mr.  Molesworth  Greene's  grey  horse  "  Trifle,"  four  years, 

pink  and  white — ridden  by  owner. 

2.  Mr.    Stawell's    "Master  of  the    Rolls,"   aged  chestnut, 

scarlet  and  black — owner. 

3.  Mr.  E.  M'Neill's  bay  horse   "  Thur'mpogue,"  blue  and 

silver — owner. 

4.  Mr.  Acland  Anderson's  bay  horse  "  Spider,"  ridden  by 

Mr.  Rawdon  Greene — crimson  and  gold. 


5.  Mr.    William    Anderson's    chestnut    horse    "  Murgah," 

ridden  by  Mr.  Acland  Anderson — maroon  jacket,  black 

6.  Mr.   Leslie   Foster's  grey  horse  "  Achmet,"  ridden   by 

Mr.  Rolf  Boldrewood — white  and  magenta. 

We  are  marshalled  in  line  by  Jimmy  Ellis,  and 
a  good  start  not  being  so  vitally  important  as  in  a 
flat  race,  we  get  comfortably  away. 

Pretty  close  together  we  charge  the  first  fence, 
which  is  negotiated  with  "  ease  to  the  riders  and  satis- 
faction to  the  lookers-on."  The  turf  is  green  and 
firm,  and  the  distance  to  the  next  fence  rather  greater, 
so  we  make  the  pace  better,  and,  as  we  near  it,  blood 
begins  to  tell. 

The  brothers  Greene  are  first  over,  followed  by 
"Thur'mpogue,"  the  rider  of  the  "Master  of  the  Rolls" 
lying  off,  and  evidently  doing  a  little  generalship.  In 
the  second  division  come  my  grey  and  William 
Anderson's  chestnut.  Both  clear  the  fence  well,  and 
pull  double,  as  we  try  to  keep  what  wind  they  have, 
available  for  the  finish. 

So  we  fare  on  ;  each  fence  shows  that  the  race 
will  mainly  lie  between  Molesworth  Greene's  grey 
and  the  chestnut  of  Mr.  Stawell,  the  latter  taking  all 
his  fences  in  stride,  and  looking  as  resolute  as  at 
the  first.  Rawdon  Greene,  Acland  Anderson,  and 
M'Neill  are  riding  jealously  for  second  place. 

The  pace  is  now  as  good  as  we  can  make  it. 
We  are  all  at  the  second  fence  from  home.  The 
grey  and  the  chestnut,  almost  neck  and  neck,  are 
taking  their  leaps  together,  "  Trifle  "  with  a  slight  lead. 
Wc  arc  all  going  our  best.  It  has  come  to  the  do- 
or-die stage,  and  every  man  sets  his  teeth  and  rides 


for  his  life.  We  are  in  full  view  of  the  grand  stand 
too.  I  have  been  taking  a  pull  at  my  grey,  and 
manage,  by  a  rush,  to  send  him  up  into  respectable 
prominence,  when  Rawdon  Greene's  horse  hits  a 
top-rail  a  terrible  clout,  which  flies  up  and  disturbs 
"  Thur'mpogue's  "  sensitive  nerves  as  he  measures  his 
distance  for  the  leap.  Half  looking  back,  half  jump- 
ing, he  strikes  the  rail  close  to  the  post.  It  bends, 
but  does  not  break.  The  big  horse  balances  for  a 
moment,  and  then  falls,  rolling  heavily  over  his  rider. 
"  Thur'mpogue  "  rises  in  a  moment,  and  makes  a  bee- 
line — head  up  and  rein  flying — for  the  nearest  road 
to  Daisy  Hill — a  practice  "quite  frequent"  with  him 
whenever  he  happens  to  get  loose.  His  rider  does 
not  rise,  or  indeed  move  for  a  few  minutes.  He  has 
broken  a  rib,  and,  like  Mr.  Tupman,  had  all  the 
temporary  supply  of  breath  knocked  out  of  his  body. 
The  rest  of  the  field  finish  creditably  close,  Moles- 
worth  Greene's  grey  being  beaten  on  the  post  by  the 
"  Master  of  the  Rolls." 

We  did  not  wait  there  long,  every  one  being 
anxious  about  the  precise  amount  of  damage  sustained 
by  "  Emun  Mhor,"  or  Long  Edmund,  as  we  heard  he 
was  called  by  the  tenantry  of  the  estate  after  his 
return  to  Ireland.  Knowing  that  if  he  did  not  die 
on  the  field,  he  would  naturally  be  anxious  for  the 
safety  of  such  a  horse  as  "  Thur'mpogue,"  and  an  ex- 
tremely swell  Wilkinson  and  Kidd  saddle,  I  started 
off  on  the  track,  and  was  lucky  enough  to  run  him 
down  just  as  he  was  preparing  to  cross  the  Deep 
Creek.  As  I  led  him  back  I  encountered  Jimmy 
Ellis,  also  running  the  trail  like  a  black  tracker,  with 
his  head  so  low  to  the  ground  that  he  did  not  see  me 


till  I  was  close  on  top  of  him.  When  we  returned 
to  the  scene  of  our  contest  the  wounded  warrior  was 
being  conveyed  to  the  house  in  Mrs.  Anderson's 
barouche,  doubtless  receiving  an  amount  of  sympathy 
which  fully  compensated  for  the  pain  and  incon- 
venience of  his  mishap. 

He  was  not  able  to  join  in  the  dance  which 
delightfully  finished  up  the  day's  entertainment,  or, 
indeed,  to  leave  his  room  ;  but  he  was  an  interesting 
personage  thenceforth,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  and 
gained  prestige  and  consideration  during  the  re- 
mainder of  the  revels. 

The  worst  of  these  brief  sketches,  roughed  off  at 
intervals  snatched  from  a  busy  life  when 

Mournful  memory  sitteth  singing 
Of  the  days  that  are  no  more, 

is  that  melancholy  reflections  will  obtrude  themselves. 
How  many  of  one's  comrades  who  made  the  joy  of 
that  pleasant  time  arc  no  more !  Of  that  same 
cheery  gathering,  how  many  lie  low — how  small 
a  party  should  we  now  make  could  we  meet — 
how  different  would  be  our  greetings  ! 

It  boots  not  to  grieve.  If  we  don't  ride  steeple- 
chases, or  try  conclusions  with  the  half-tamed  steed, 
we  still  find  a  warm  place  in  our  hearts  for  a  good 
hack.  His  Honour  Sir  William  Stawell  doesn't  do 
much  in  the  four-in-hand  line  nowadays,  but  I  hear 
that  he  can  walk  up  a  mountain  yet,  and  do  his 
share  of  bush  travelling  in  vacation.  Life  is  but 
a  battlefield  at  best,  and  we,  the  survivors  of  more 
than  one  decisive  action,  must  bow  to  the  merciful 
fate  which  has  kept  us  so  far  unscathed,   while  in 


secret  we  make  moan  over  those  who  lie  beneath 
green  turf  or  murmuring  wave,  desert  sand  or 
wild -wood  tree ;  whose  place  in  our  hearts,  spite 
of  careless  speech  and  smiling  brow,  may  never  be 
filled  up. 



When  Mr.  Lemuel  Bolden  and  I  rode  to  Yering 
from  Heidelberg,  about  the  year  1845,  to  Pay  a 
promised  visit  to  Mr.  William  Ryrie,  the  Upper 
Yarra  road  and  the  place  of  our  destination  pre- 
sented a  different  appearance. 

We  forded  the  Yarra  below  Mr.  D.  C.  M'Arthur's 
orchard,  and  crossing  a  heavily-timbered  river-flat, 
with  deep  reed-fringed  lagoons,  debouched  on  the 
up-river  road.  This  particular  locality  was  well 
known  to  me,  inasmuch  as,  being  formerly  in  our 
pastoral  possession,  it  had  constituted  a  species  of 
"  chase "  in  my  early  sporting  days.  The  only 
denizens  of  that  period  were  an  occasional  pair  of 
sawyers,  generally  "  Derwenters,"  as  the  Tasmanian 
expirees  were  called,  thither  attracted  by  the  unusual 
size  and  straightness  of  the  timber  which  grew  in 
the  flats  and  "  bends  "  of  the  winding  Yarra. 

Owing  to  the  sinuous  shape  of  the  lagoons  on 
the  south  side  of  the  river,  coupled  with  the  dense 
nature  of  the  thickets,  it  was  not  an  easy  matter  for 
a  stranger  to  find   his  way  through  the   maze.      It 

chap,  xx  YE  RING  20 1 

naturally  came  to  be,  therefore,  the  happy  hunting 
ground  of  my  boyhood  ;  many  a  grand  day's  sport 
and  thrilling  adventure  did  I  have  therein. 

The  largest  lagoon  was  fringed  with  a  wide 
border  of  reeds,  growing  in  deep  water.  It  had  in 
the  centre  a  clear  lakelet  or  mere,  upon  the  lonely 
waters  of  which  disported  the  mountain  duck,  with 
his  black  and  other  congeners,  the  greater  and  lesser 
grebe ;  while  among  the  reeds  waded  or  flew  the 
heron  {Ardea  australis),  the  sultana  water-hen,  a 
red-billed  variety  of  the  coot,  the  bittern,  the  land- 
rail, and  in  the  season  an  occasional  flock  of  pied 
geese  or  black  swans. 

To  approach  the  wild-fowl  in  the  open  mere  was 
a  work  of  difficulty,  if  not  of  danger,  inasmuch  as 
the  water  was  too  deep  for  wading,  and  the  entangle- 
ment with  weeds — which  then  cost  more  than  one 
strong  swimmer  his  life — was  not  out  of  the  reckoning. 
I  did  once  struggle  to  the  verge  of  total  exhaustion 
within  the  green  meshes  of  one  of  these  weed 
nets,  in  a  lonely  pool  in  which  I  had  to  swim  for  a 
black  duck.  The  thought  uppermost  in  my  mind 
was  that  it  would  be  such  a  time  before  I  should  be 
found,  in  case  of — an  accident  which  didn't  come  off. 
I  used  to  circumvent  my  feathered  friends  in  the 
horse-shoe  lagoon  by  climbing  a  tree  upon  the  slope 
which  lay  opposite.  From  this  coign  of  vantage  I 
could  see  the  birds  swimming  in  fancied  security, 
and  lay  plans  accordingly.  In  order  to  open  fire 
with  effect,  I  had  caused  to  be  conveyed  a  light 
canoe,  which  one  of  my  sawyer  friends  had  neatly 
scooped  out  for  me,  into  the  outer  mere  among  the 
reeds.      It  was  in   waist-deep  water — carefully  con- 


cealed,  and  I  could,  of  course,  gain  it  unseen. 
Paddling  or  pulling  it  through  the  outer  reed-brake, 
I  ensconced  myself  at  the  edge  of  the  clear  water, 
waiting  patiently  until  the  unsuspecting  birds  sailed 
past.  Once  I  remember  getting  two  couple  of  black 
duck.  An  occasional  goose,  or  even  the  lordly 
swan,  found  its  way  into  my  bag. 

Once,  as  I  had  planned  a  day's  shooting,  I  was 
startled  by  seeing  a  flock  of  ducks  wheeling  around, 
and  finally  making  straight  for  the  South  Pole,  as  if 
decided  not  to  return  for  a  year.  Gazing  angrily 
around  to  discern  the  cause  of  this  untoward  migra- 
tion, I  descried  a  man  carefully  got  up  in  correct 
shooting  rig  emerge  from  the  reeds.  Half-paralysed 
by  the  audacity  of  the  unknown  —  this  was  years 
before  the  free-selection  discovery — I  sat  still  in  my 
saddle  for  one  moment.  Then,  as  the  enormity  of 
the  offence — trespass  on  our  run — rose  before  me, 
I  dashed  spurs  into  my  horse  and  charged  the 

"  What's  your  name,  and  what  do  you  mean  by 
coming  here  to  shoot  and  frighten  the  ducks  ? "  I 
called  out,  stopping  my  frantic  steed  within  a  few 
feet  of  him.  "  Don't  you  know  whose  ground  you're 

The  unknown  looked  calmly  at  me  with  a  rather 
amused  countenance  (I  was  about  fourteen,  and 
scarcely  looked  my  age),  and  then  said,  "  Who  the 
devil  are  you  ?  " 

"  My  name's  Boldrcwood,"  I  returned,  "  and  this 
is  our  run,  and  no  one  has  any  right  to  come  here  and 
shoot  or  do  anything  else  without  my  father's  leave." 

"  Gad  !    I  thought   it  was  the  Lord  of  the  Manor 

xx  YER1NG  203 

at  least !  You're  a  smart  youngster,  but  I  don't  know 
that  there  are  any  game  laws  in  this  country.  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  me  for  instance  ? " 

The  stranger  turned  out  to  be  a  guest  at  a  neigh- 
bouring station.  There  were  cattle  stations  in  the 
vicinity  in  those  days.  Anyhow,  we  compromised 
matters  and  finished  the  day  together. 

Not  far  from  the  spot  the  late  John  Hunter 
Kerr,  afterwards  of  Fernihurst,  had  a  veritable  cattle 
station.  I  attended  one  of  the  musters  for  a  purpose. 
The  cattle  were  in  the  yard,  with  various  stock- 
riders and  neighbours  sitting  around,  preparatory  to 
drafting,  as  I  rode  up,  attended  by  a  sable  retainer 
driving  a  horse  and  cart. 

What  did  I  please  to  want  ?  "  I've  come  for  our 
black  J.  B.  bullock,"  said  I.  "  He  has  been  running 
with  your  cattle  these  two  years,  and  I  thought  he 
would  most  likely  come  in  with  your  muster." 

"  He  is  here  sure  enough,  and  in  fine  order,  but 
how  are  you  going  to  take  him  home  ?  He  always 
clears  the  yard  when  we  begin  to  draft,  and  no  stock- 
rider about  here  can  drive  him  single-handed." 

"  I'll  take  him  home  fast  enough,"  returned  I, 
with  colonial  confidence,  "  if  he'll  stay  in  the  yard 
long  enough  for  me  to  shoot  him." 

"  Oh,  that's  the  idea,"  quoth  Mr.  Kerr.  "  Go  to 
work  ;  only  don't  miss  him  or  drop  any  of  my 

"  No  fear." 

Old  Harvey,  an  expatriated  countryman  of  Cete- 
wayo's,  handed  me  my  single-barrelled  fowling-piece, 
a  generally  useful  weapon,  which  had  been  loaded 
with    ball    for   the    occasion.      I    walked    cautiously 


through  the  staring,  wildish  cattle,  to  the  middle  of 
the  yard,  where  stood  the  big  black  bullock.  He 
lowered  his  head,  and  began  to  paw  the  ground.  I 
made  a  low  bovine  murmur,  which  I  had  found 
effective  before ;  he  raises  his  head  and  looks  full 
at  me  for  a  second.  The  bullet  crashes  into  the 
forehead  "curl,"  and  the  huge  savage  lies  prone — a 
quivering  mass.  Harvey  promptly  performs  the 
necessary  phlebotomy,  and  being  dragged  out  of  the 
yard,  the  black  ox  is  skinned,  quartered,  and  on  his 
way  to  the  beef-cask  at  Hartlands  well  within  twenty 
minutes  of  his  downfall. 

Years  after,  when  a  full-fledged  Riverina  squatter, 
Mr.  Kerr  and  I  met  in  partibus.  He  at  length  re- 
called my  name  and  locale,  remarking,  "  Oh  yes  ! 
remember  now  ;  you  were  the  boy  that  shot  the 
black  bullock  in  my  yard  at  South  Yarra  long 

Well,  Mr.  Bolden  and  I  ride  along  the  winding, 
gravelly  bush  road,  over  ranges  that  skirt  and  at 
times  leave  the  course  of  the  river  wholly,  not  seeing 
a  house  or  a  soul,  except  Mr.  Gardiner's  dairy  farm, 
for  more  than  twenty  miles.  The  country,  in  an 
agricultural  and  pastoral  point  of  view,  is  as  bad  as 
can  be.  Thick — i.e.  scrubby,  poor  in  soil,  scanty  as 
to  pasture,  when  all  suddenly,  as  is  so  often  the  case 
in  Australia,  we  come  upon  a  "  mountain  park." 

We  cross  a  running  creek  by  a  bridge.  We  see 
a  flock  of  sheep  and  a  shepherd,  the  genuine  "  old 
hand  "  of  the  period.  The  slopes  are  gently  rising 
towards  the  encircling  highlands,  the  timber  is  pleas- 
ingly distributed,  the  soil,  the  pasture,  has  improved. 
We  are  in   a   new  country.      We  have  entered  upon 

xx  YERING  205 

Yering  proper,  a  veritable  oasis  in  this  unredeemed 
stringy-bark  desert. 

How  Mr.  William  Ryrie,  in  the  year  1837  or 
1838,  brought  his  flocks  and  herds  and  general 
pioneer  equipment  straight  across  country  from  Arn- 
prior  in  far  Monaro  in  New  South  Wales,  hitting 
precisely  upon  this  tenantless  lodge  in  the  wilderness, 
will  always  be  a  marvel.  It  was  one  of  the  feats 
which  the  earlier  explorers  occasionally  performed, 
showing  their  fitness  for  the  heroic  work  of  colonisa- 
tion, wherein  so  many  of  them  risked  life  and  limb. 
With  the  great  pastoral  wild  of  Australia  Felix 
lying  virgin  and  unappropriated  before  him,  Mr. 
Ryrie  might  easily  have  made  a  more  profitable,  a 
more  expansive  choice.  But  he  could  not  have 
hit  upon  a  more  ideal  spot  for  the  founding  of  an 
estate  and  the  formation  of  a  homestead  had  he 
searched  the  continent. 

Amid  the  variously-gathered  outfit  which  accom- 
panied the  pastoral  chief,  as  he  led  flocks,  herds, 
and  retainers  through  unknown  wilds  to  the  far 
promised  land,  happened  to  be  some  roots  of  the 
tree,  the  survival  of  which  caused  Noah  so  much 
uneasiness,  and  more  or  less  humbled  his  descendants, 
before  John  Jameson  and  Co.  took  up  the  running 
with  the  now  fashionable  product  of  the  harmless 
avena.  A  few  grape  vines  reached  the  spot  unharmed. 
Planted  in  the  first  orchard  on  the  rich  alluvial  of  the 
broad  river-flat  which  fronted  the  cottage,  they  grew 
and  flourished,  so  richly  that  the  area  devoted  to  the 
vine  was  soon  enlarged.  From  such  small  beginning 
arose  the  vineyards  of  Yering  and  St.  Hubert's. 
From    those,    again,    Messrs.    de    Pury    and    others 


planted  the  wine-producing  district  which  has  now  a 
European  reputation. 

Little  of  this,  however,  was  apparent  to  my  com- 
panion and  myself,  or  we  might  have  been  enter- 
taining royalty  by  this  time — who  knows  ? — carrying 
ourselves  like  other  eminent  and  gilded  colonists, 
envied  by  everybody  and  sneered  at  by  our  less 
fortunate  compatriots.  We  rode  steadily  on,  through 
hill  and  hollow,  past  plump  cattle,  not,  however, 
showing  quite  so  much  white  and  roan  as  do  the 
present  herds  ;  past  a  "  manada "  of  mares  and 
foals,  from  which  ran  out  to  challenge  our  steeds 
Clifton  the  Second,  "  with  flying  mane  and  arching 
crest."  Finally  we  ride  up  to  a  neat  weatherboard 
cottage,  whence  issues  our  kindly,  warm-hearted 
host,  breathing  welcome  and  hospitality  in  every 
tone  of  his  jolly  voice.  We  were  soon  enjoying 
the  change  of  sensation,  which  after  a  thirty-mile 
ride  is  of  itself  a  luxury.  With  him  as  visitors  were 
"Hobbie"  Elliot,  a  well-known  squatter  of  the  period, 
and  a  stalwart  younger  brother  just  out  from  home. 

The  cottage,  as  I  remember  it  then,  was  built 
upon  a  slight  elevation  overlooking  a  richly-grassed 
meadow,  below  which  the  Yarra,  not  much  less  wide 
and  rapid  than  near  Melbourne,  ran  its  winding 
course.  On  the  farther  side  of  the  river,  looking 
eastward,  was  a  purple -shadowed  mountain,  ap- 
parently, though  not  in  reality,  overhanging  the 
stream.  In  the  dimmer  distance  rose  the  vast 
snow -crowned  range  of  the  Australian  Alps.  We 
walked  about  after  our  afternoon  meal,  admiring  the 
great  growth  of  the  trees  in  the  garden,  and  the 
picturesque  appearance  of  things  generally. 

xx  YERING  207 

On  the  next  day  we  took  a  long  ride,  and,  I  well 
remember,  crossed  the  river  upon  a  primitive  bridge, 
which  enables  me  to  say  to  this  day  that  I  have 
ridden  across  a  river  upon  a  single  tree.  It  was 
even  so.  An  enormous  eucalyptus  [E.  amygdalind), 
growing  upon  the  bank  of  the  Yarra,  had  been 
felled  or  grubbed — I  think  the  latter — so  as  to  fall 
across  the  stream.  Afterwards  it  had  been  adzed 
level — a  hand-rail  had  been  supplied.  A  quiet  horse 
could  therefore  be  easily  led  or  ridden  across  to  the 
other  side,  the  width  being  an  average  of  three  feet. 

We  crossed  that  way,  I  know,  next  day,  and  had 
a  look  at  the  Heifer  Station,  as  the  trans-Yarra  run 
was  then  called.  It  was  a  sort  of  Yering  in 
miniature,  not  so  open,  and  much  smaller.  To  it, 
however,  our  host  was  compelled  to  retire,  when 
(upon  how  many  good  fellows  has  the  same  fate 
fallen  ?)  he  made  a  compulsory  sale  to  Paul  de 
Castella  and  his  partner,  another  Swiss  gentleman. 
Fortunately  for  him,  pastoral  property  rose  in  value 
prodigiously  "  after  the  gold,"  so  that  he  was  enabled 
to  sell  the  heifer  station  for  five  times  as  much 
as  he  got  for  Yering. 

However,  "  unconscious  of  our  doom,"  we  took  a 
long  and  pleasant  ride  through  ferny  dales,  and 
darksome  woods  where  the  giant  eucalypti  reared 
their  heads  to  heaven.  We  watched  the  sparkling 
streamlets  dash  down  their  course  from  alpine 
heights,  praised  the  cattle  and  horses,  and  returned 
with  appetites  of  the  most  superior  description. 
Our  chief  adventure  was  in  crossing  a  water-laden 
flat,  when  Mr.  Elliot,  jun.,  raised  his  long  legs  high 
on    his    horse's    sides    to    escape    splashing.       That 


animal,  being  young  and  "  touchy,"  immediately  ex- 
hibited a  fair  imitation  of  that  well-known  Australian 
gambade  known  as  "buck-jumping."  For  the  honour 
of  Scotia,  however,  our  friend,  new  chum  as  he  was, 
stuck  to  the  pigskin,  and  was  justly  applauded  at 
the  end  of  the  performance. 

Live  stock  were  cruelly  low  about  that  time — £1 
a  head  for  store  bullocks,  and  so  on.  Fat  cattle 
were  never  worth  more  than  £3  each,  often  consider- 
ably under  that  modest  price.  The  expense  of  stock- 
management  bore  hard  upon  receipts,  particularly 
when  the  proprietor  had  not  inherited  the  saving 
grace  of  "  screwiness."  Our  host,  gallant,  generous, 
warm-hearted  William  Ryrie,  was  not  in  that  line  ; 
far  otherwise.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Ycring  was  sold 
to  Messrs.  de  Castella  and  Co.,  within  a  year  of  our 
visit,  for  two  or  three  thousand  pounds — some  such 
trifle,  at  any  rate. 

So  Yering  passed  into  the  hands  of  another  good 
fellow.  Though  "  foreign,"  and  not  "  to  the  manor 
born,"  he  quickly  demonstrated  his  ability  to  acquire 
the  leading  principles  of  stock  -  management.  Of 
course,  the  gold  came  to  his  aid,  causing  the  cattle 
he  had  purchased  at  £2  each  to  be  worth  ^8  or  £10, 
and  in  other  ways  making  things  easy  for  an  enter- 
prising pastoralist.  Besides  managing  the  herd 
satisfactorily,  Mr.  de  Castella  saw  his  way  to 
developing  the  vineyard,  enlarging  it  twenty  or  fifty 
fold,  besides  building  cellars,  wine-presses,  and  all 
the  adjuncts  of  scientific  vine-culture.  He  imported 
French  or  Swiss  vignerons,  and  commenced  to  acquire 
that  high  reputation  for  "  white  and  red  Yering " 
Hermitage  which  remains  unblemished  to  this  day. 

xx  YERING  209 

Years  afterwards,  when  the  tide  of  pastoral 
prosperity  throughout  the  colonies  was  high  and 
unwavering,  I  made  another  visit  to  the  spot,  under 
different  circumstances  and  in  far  other  company. 
A  large  party  had  been  invited  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  de 
Castella  to  spend  a  week  at  Yering,  when  a  picnic, 
a  dance,  and  all  sorts  of  al  fresco  entertainments 
were  included  in  the  programme. 

We  were  to  meet  at  Fairlie  House,  South  Yarra, 
and  the  day  being  propitious,  the  gathering  was 
successful  ;  the  cortege  decidedly  imposing.  Charlie 
Lyon's  four-in-hand  drag  led  the  way  ;  Lloyd  Jones's 
and  Rawdon  Greene's  mail  phaetons,  with  carriages 
and  dog-carts,  following  in  line — it  was  a  small  Derby 
day.  The  greater  proportion  of  the  ladies  were  ac- 
commodated in  the  vehicles.  There  were  horsemen, 
too,  of  the  party.  The  commissariat  had  been  sent 
on  at  an  early  hour,  accompanied  by  a  German  band, 
retained  for  the  occasion,  to  a  convenient  halting 
place  for  luncheon.  As  we  rattled  along  the  broad, 
straight  roads  of  Kew  we  saw  hedges  of  roses,  orchards 
in  spring  blossom,  miles  of  villas  and  handsome  houses, 
all  the  signs  of  a  prosperous  suburban  population. 
How  different  from  the  signs  of  the  past ! 

Early  in  the  afternoon  we  sighted  the  dark-browed 
Titan  on  the  hither  side  of  which  the  homestead  lay. 
Mending  our  pace,  we  entered  a  mile-long  avenue, 
cleared  with  a  bridegroom's  munificence,  as  a  fitting 
approach  for  so  fair  a  bride,  on  the  occasion  of  his 

I  don't  think  we  danced  that  night — the  fairer 
portion  of  the  company  being  moderately  travel- 
worn — but    we   made  up    for   it   on    the    succeeding 



ones.  Each  day's  programme  had  been  marked 
out,  and  arrangements  made  in  regal  style.  Some 
of  us  had  sent  on  our  favourite  hacks  ;  side-saddle 
and  other  horses  were  provided  by  the  host  in  any 
quantity.  Riding  parties,  picnics  to  fern  gullies,  to 
Mount  Juliet,  and  other  places  of  romantic  interest, 
were  successfully  carried  out.  Races  were  impro- 
vised. Shooting  parties,  fishing  excursions,  kangaroo 
and  opossum  battues — everything  which  could  im- 
press the  idea  that  life  was  one  perpetual  round 
of  mirth  and  revelry — had  been  provided  for. 

As  we  sat  at  mid-day  on  the  velvet  green 
sward,  by  fern-fringed  streamlets,  under  giant  gums 
or  the  towering  patriarchs  of  the  mountain  ash,  while 
merry  jest  and  sparkling  repartee  went  round, 
ardent  vow  and  rippling  laughter,  we  might 
have  been  taken — apart  from  the  costume — for 
an  acted  chapter  out  of  "  Boccaccio."  When  we 
came  dashing  in  before  sunset,  the  sound  of  our 
approach  was  like  that  of  a  cavalry  troop,  or  the 
rolling  hoof-thunder  of  marauding  Apaches.  The 
Germans  were  musicians  of  taste  ;  to  the  "  Morgen- 
blatter  "  and  the  "  Tausend-und-eine  Nachte  "  valses 
we  danced  until  the  Southern  Cross  was  low  in  the 
sky,  while  as  we  watched  the  moon  rise,  flooding 
with  silver  radiance  the  sombre  Alp,  and  shedding  a 
passing  gleam  on  the  rippling  river,  all  might  well 
have  passed  for  an  enchanted  revel,  where  mirth, 
moon,  and  music  would  disappear  at  the  waving 
of  a  wand. 

Years  had  rolled  on  since  my  first  visit  to  the 
pioneer  homestead.  The  cottage  had  disappeared, 
or  was    relegated    to  other  purposes.       In  its  place 

xx  YE  RING  211 

stood  a  mansion,  replete  with  the  appliances  of 
modern  country-house  life.  The  vineyard  covered 
acres  of  the  slope,  and  the  grapes  were  ripening  upon 
thousands  of  trellised  vines.  The  stables  were  filled 
with  high  -  conditioned,  high-priced  animals,  with 
grooms  and  helpers  in  proportion  to  their  needs. 

In  the  meadows  below  the  house  grazed  hundreds 
of  high-priced  shorthorns,  some  hundreds  of  which 
had  been  purchased  from  me,  Rolf,  a  few  months 
previously,  so  that  I  had  the  exceptional  privilege 
of  drawing  attention  to  the  quality  of  my  herd. 
Steeds  of  price  were  there  that  day.  Diane  and 
Crinoline,  two  peerless  ladies'  horses  ;  Mr.  de 
Castella's  half- Arab  carriage  pair;  Sir  Andrew 
Clarke's  roan  Cornborough  hackney,  equally  perfect 
in  harness  ;  Mr.  Lyon's  team  of  chestnuts,  high  bred 
and  well  matched,  not  to  mention  the  swell  bright 
chestnut  mare  "  Carnation,"  for  which  the  owner  had 
refused  eighty  guineas  from  an  Indian  buyer. 

The  cool,  capacious  wine-cellars  played  their 
part  on  the  occasion,  being  requisitioned  for  their 
choicest  "  cru."  Soda  was  abundant,  the  weather 
warm,  and  the  daily  consumption  of  fluid  must 
have  been  serious.  When  the  "  decamerone " 
expired,  the  guests,  one  and  all,  were  ready  to  testify 
that  never  did  mortals  more  deeply  drink  of  Pleasure's 
chalice,  never  return  to  the  prose  of  ordinary  life 
with  more  sincere  regret. 


TALES    OF    A  "  TRAVELLER  " 

THIS  is  a  "  horsey "  sketch,  possibly  therefore  un- 
acceptable to  the  general  reader.  But  any  chronicle 
of  my  early  days,  connected  as  they  were  with  the 
birth  of  a  great  city,  would  be  incomplete  without 
mention  of  the  noble  animal  so  dear  to  every 
youthful  Australian. 

Reared  in  an  atmosphere  redolent  of  the  swift 
courser's  triumphs,  often  compelled  to  entrust  life 
and  limb  to  the  good  horse's  speed,  care  indeed 
requires  to  be  taken  that  the  southern  Briton  does 
not  somewhat  overvalue  his  fascinating  dumb  com- 
panion— overvalue  him  to  the  exclusion  from  his 
thoughts  of  art  and  science,  literature  and  dogma — 
to  the  banishment  of  rational  conversation,  and  a 
preference  for  unprofitable  society.  So  thought  an 
old  family  friend,  Mr.  Felton  Mathew  (he  upon  his 
blood  bay  "Glaucus,"  and  I  upon  my  Timor  pony), 
as  we  rode  towards  Enmore  from  Sydney  in  old,  old 
days.  He  testily  exclaimed,  "  For  Heaven's  sake, 
Rolf,  don't  go  on  talking  about  horses  everlastingly, 
or  you'll  grow  up  like  those  colonial  lads  that  never 

chap,  xxi         TALES  OF  A  "  TRAVELLER"  213 

have  another  idea  in  their  heads."  I  winced  under 
the  rebuke,  but  accepted  it,  as  became  our  relative 
ages.  None  the  less  did  I  bear  in  my  secret  breast 
that  Arab-like  love  for  horses  and  their  belongings 
which  marks  the  predestined  son  of  the  Waste  here 
as  duly  as  in  Yemen  or  the  Nejd. 

How  I  longed  for  the  day  when  I  should  have  a 
station  of  my  own,  when  I  should  have  blood  mares, 
colts  and  fillies,  perhaps  a  horse  in  training,  with 
all  the  gorgeous  adjuncts  of  stud  -  proprietorship  ! 
The  time  came — the  horses  too — many  a  deeply 
joyous  hour,  many  a  thrill  of  hope  and  fear,  many  a 
wild  ride  and  daring  deed  was  mine 

Ere  nerve  and  sinew  began  to  fail 
In  the  consulship  of  Plancus. 

And  now  the  time  has  passed.  The  good  horses 
have  trotted,  and  cantered,  and  galloped  away  from 
out  my  life ;  most  of  them  from  this  fair  earth 
altogether.  Yet  still,  memory  clings  with  curious 
fidelity  to  the  equine  friends  of  the  good  old  time, 
indissolubly  connected  as  they  were  with  more 
important  personages  and  events. 

Among  the  earliest  blood  sires  that  the  dis- 
trict around  Melbourne  boasted  were  "  Clifton  "  and 
"Traveller" — both  New  South  Wales  bred  horses,  and 
destined  to  spend  their  last  years  in  the  same  stud. 
Of  this  pair  of  thoroughbreds,  Clifton,  a  son  of 
Skeleton  and  Spaewife,  both  imported,  was  bred  by 
the  late  Mr.  Charles  Smith,  and  named  Clifton  after 
his  stud  farm  near  Sydney.  "  Skeleton,"  a  grey  horse 
of  high  lineage,  own  brother  to  "  Drone,"  and  the 
property  of  the   Marquis  of  Sligo,  was  imported  by 


the  late  Mr.  William  Edward  Riley,  of  Raby,  New 
South  Wales.  To  him  many  of  the  best  strains  of 
the  present  day  trace  their  ancestry.  "  Clifton," 
a  lengthy  bay  horse,  possessing  size,  speed,  and 
substance,  was  purchased  by  Mr.  Lyon  Campbell, 
one  of  the  earlier  Melbourne  magnates,  formerly  in 
the  army,  and  by  him  kept  at  Campbellfield,  on  the 
Yarra,  near  the  Upper  Falls.  His  stock,  of  which 
we  possessed  several,  were  speedy  and  upstanding, 
great  jumpers,  and  as  a  family  the  best  tempered 
horses  I  ever  saw.  This  descended  to  the  second 
generation.  You  could  "  rope,"  as  was  the  unfair 
custom  of  the  day,  any  "  Clifton  "  colt  or  filly,  back 
them  in  three  days,  and  within  a  week  ride  a  journey 
or  do  ordinary  station  work  with  them.  They  were 
free  and  handy  almost  at  once,  and  remained  so, 
no  matter  how  long  a  spell  they  were  treated  to  after- 
wards. "  Red  Deer,"  with  which  Mr.  Sam  Waldock 
won  the  Jockeys'  Handicap  and  the  All-aged  Stakes 
at  Sandhurst,  was  a  Clifton,  bred  by  me.  "  Jupiter," 
the  winner  of  the  All-aged  Stakes  in  Melbourne  in  very 
good  company,  in  1854  or  thereabouts,  was  another, 
bred  by  Mr.  James  Irvine.  His  first  purchaser  put 
the  tackle  on  him  at  Dunmore  and  rode  him  atvay 
the  same  day.  He  was  never  a  whit  the  worse  hack 
or  racehorse  for  the  abrupt  handling.  My  old 
Clifton  mare,  "  Cynthia,"  was  ridden  barebacked  with 
a  halter  once,  after  nearly  a  year's  spell.  She  was 
only  five  years  old  at  the  time.  Observation  of 
these  and  other  traits  confirmed  mc  in  the  opinion, 
which  I  have  long  held,  that  the  method  of  breaking 
has  little  to  do  with  a  horse's  paces,  and  less  with 
his    temper     or     general     character.       Bonus     cqitus 

xxi  TALES  OF  A  "TRAVELLER"  215 

"  nascitur,  non  fit"  as  is  the  poet.  You  can  no  more 
imbue  the  former  with  desirable  dispositions  by 
force  of  education,  even  the  most  careful,  than  the 
schools  can  turn  out  Tennysons  and  Brownings  by 
completest  tuition. 

"  Traveller  "  was  another  "  Sydney-side  "  celebrity, 
bred  by  the  late  Mr.  Charles  Roberts — if  I  mistake 
not,  a  turf  antagonist  of  Mr.  C.  Smith.  He  was  a 
very  grand  horse.  "  The  sort  we  don't  see  now,  sir," 
as  the  veteran  turfite  is  so  fond  of  saying.  A  son 
of  "  Bay  Camerton,"  his  ancestry  ran  back,  through 
colonial  thoroughbreds,  to  the  Sheik  Arab.  Not 
more  than  fifteen  hands  in  height,  a  beautiful  dark 
chestnut  in  colour,  he  was  a  model  of  strength, 
speed,  and  symmetry.  His  shapes  inclined  more  to 
the  Arab  type  than  to  the  long-striding,  galloping 
machine  into  which  the  modern  thoroughbred  horse 
has  been  developed.  Standing  firmly  on  shortish, 
clean,  iron-like  legs,  which  years  upon  years  of  racing 
(in  the  days  of  heats  too)  had  never  deteriorated,  he 
was  a  weight-carrier  with  the  speed  of  a  deer — a  big- 
jawed  Arab  head,  a  well -shaped,  high -crested  neck, 
oblique  shoulders,  just  room  enough  between  them  and 
a  strong  loin  for  a  saddle,  a  back  rib  like  a  cask,  high 
croup,  muscular  thighs,  and  broad,  well-bent  hocks. 
Everything  that  could  be  wished  for  as  a  progenitor 
of  hacks,  racers,  and  harness  horses.  His  one  defect 
was  moral  rather  than  physical.  I  shall  allude  to  it 
in  its  place.  His  legs  were  simply  wonderful.  At 
twenty  years  old — about  which  time  he  died  suddenly, 
never  having  suffered  an  hour's  illness  or  shown  the 
slightest  sign  of  natural  decay — they  were  as  beauti- 
fully clean  and  sound  as  those  of  an  unbroken  three- 


year-old.  He  had  run  and  won  many  a  race,  beginning 
as  early  as  1835,  when  he  competed  with  Mr.  C. 
Smith's  Chester — a  half-brother,  by  the  way — on  the 
old  Botany  Road  racecourse,  near  Sydney.  I,  with 
other  schoolboys,  attended  this  meeting,  and  have  a 
clear  remembrance  of  the  depth  of  the  sand  through 
which  the  cracks  of  the  day — Whisker,  Lady  Godiva, 
Lady  Emily,  and  others — had  to  struggle  for  the 
deciding  heat. 

He  was  the  property  of  Mr.  Hugh  Jamieson,  of 
Tallarook,  Goulburn  River,  as  far  back  as  1841  or 
1842.  That  gentleman,  one  of  the  originators  of 
the  Port  Phillip  Turf  Club,  temporarily  relinquished 
breeding,  and  Traveller  passed  into  the  hands  of 
a  discriminating  and  enthusiastic  proprietor,  Mr. 
Charles  Macknight,  late  of  Dunmore,  and  by  him 
was  employed  in  the  foundation  of  the  celebrated 
Dunmore  stud. 

When  I  referred  to  the  moral  defect  of"  Traveller  " 
— a  horse  that  deservesto  be  bracketed  with  "Jorrocks" 
in  the  equine  chronicles  of  Australia — my  meaning 
had  reference  to  the  temper  which  he  communicated 
to  his  immediate,  and,  doubtless,  by  the  unvarying 
laws  of  heredity,  to  his  remoter  descendants. 

This  was  as  bad  as  bad  could  be,  chiefly  expressed 
in  one  particular  direction — the  crowning  character- 
istic vice  of  Australian  horses — that  of  buck-jumping. 
Curiously,  the  old  horse  was  quiet  and  well  conducted 
himself,  though  there  was  a  legend  of  his  having 
killed  a  man  on  the  Sydney  racecourse  by  a  kick. 
However  that  might  be,  he  was  apparently  of  a  serene 
and  generous  nature. 

So  was  his   first   foal    born    at    Dunmore.      "  St. 

xxi  TALES  OF  A  "TRAVELLER"  217 

George  "  was  the  offspring  of"  Die  Vernon  "  by  "  Peter 
Fin,"  well  known  afterwards  as  a  hunter,  when  owned 
by  Alick  Cuningham  and  James  Murphy.  "  St. 
George,"  from  circumstances,  was  a  couple  of  years 
older  than  the  first  crop  of  Traveller  foals,  and,  having 
been  made  a  pet  of  by  Mr.  Macknight,  was  very 
quiet  when  broken  in  by  that  gentleman  personally, 
a  fine  rough-rider  and  philosophical  trainer  as  he 
was,  a  combination  not  often  reached.  Hence,  from 
"  St.  George's "  docility,  great  expectations  were 
entertained  of  the  temper  of  the  "  Traveller  "  stock. 

"  All  depends  upon  the  breaking,"  says  the 
young  and  ardent,  but  chiefly  inexperienced,  horse- 

"  Not  so  !  The  leading  qualities  of  horse  and 
man  are  strongly  hereditary.  Education  modifies, 
but  removes  not,  the  inherited  tendency — sometimes 
hardly  even  modifies." 

So,  whether  "Traveller's"  dam  had  an  ineradicable 
taste  for  "  propping,"  or  was  cantankerous  otherwise, 
disencumbering  herself,  on  occasion,  of  saddle,  rider, 
and  such  trifles,  or  whether  he  himself,  in  early 
youth,  used  to  send  the  stable-boys  flying  ever  and 
anon,  I  have  no  means  of  knowing.  Nothing  can 
be  surer,  however,  than  this  fact,  that  most  of  the 
Traveller  colts  and  fillies  at  Dunmore  and  surround- 
ing stations  displayed  an  indisposition  to  be  broken 
in  little  short  of  insanity. 

When  ridden  for  the  first  time  they  fought  and 
struggled,  bucked  and  kicked,  fell  down,  got  up, 
and  went  at  it  again  with  unabated  fury.  Tamed  by 
hard  work  and  perseverance,  when  they  were  turned 
out  for  a  little  rest,  they  were  nearly  as  bad,  if  taken 


up  again,  as  at  the  first  onset.  When  apparently 
quietened,  they  would  set  to  work  with  a  stranger  as 
though  he  were  some  new  species  of  pre-Adamite 
man.  All  sorts  of  grooms  were  tried,  dare-devils  who 
could  ride  anything,  steady  ones  who  mouthed  care- 
fully and  gave  plenty  of  exercise  and  preparation. 
It  was  all  the  same  in  result.  They  were  hard  to 
break  in,  hard  to  ride  when  they  were  broken  in,  and 
sometimes  hardest  of  all  in  the  intervals  of  station 
work.  Of  course  there  were  exceptions.  But  they 
were  few.  And  a  stranger  who  was  offered  a  fresh 
horse  at  a  station  in  the  neighbourhood  was  apt  to 
ask  if  he  was  a  "  Traveller  "  ;  and  if  answered  in  the 
affirmative,  to  look  askance  and  inquire  when  he  had 
been  ridden  last,  and  whether  he  had  then  "  done  any- 
thing," before  committing  himself  to  his  tender  mercies. 
It  was  the  more  provoking  because  in  all  other 
respects  the  family  character  was  unassailable.  They 
were  handsome  and  level  of  shape,  iron-legged,  full 
of  courage  and  staying  power,  well-paced,  and  in 
some  instances  very  fast — notably  Tramp,  Trackdeer, 
St.  George,  No  Ma,  Triton,  The  Buckley  colt,  and 
many  others.  Triton  won  the  Three-year-old  Stakes 
at  Port  Fairy  against  a  good  field,  and  the  Geelong 
Steeplechase  the  year  after,  running  up  and  winning 
on  the  post  after  a  bad  fall,  and  with  his  rider's 
collar-bone  broken.  The  offspring  of  particular 
mares  were  observed  to  be  better  tempered  than 
others.  Triton's  dam,  Katinka,  was  a  Clifton,  and 
he  was  in  the  main  good-humoured;  though  I  re- 
member him  throwing  his  boy  just  before  a  race. 
The  "Die  Vcrnons"  were  mostly  like  their  mother,  free 
and  liberal-minded  ;  but  many  of  the  others — I  may 

xxi  TALES  OF  A  "  TRAVELLER"  219 

say  most  of  them — were  "  regular  tigers,"  requiring 
the  horsemen  who  essayed  to  ride  them  habitually 
to  be  young,  valiant,  in  hard  training,  and  up  to  all 
the  tricks  of  the  rough -riding  trade.  That  they 
seldom  commended  themselves  to  elderly  gentlemen 
may  easily  be  believed.  Even  here  was  the  exception. 
The  late  Mr.  Gray,  Crown  Lands  Commissioner  for 
the  Western  District,  when  on  his  rounds,  took  a 
fancy  to  a  fine  bay  colt,  just  broken  in,  and  bought 
him.  He,  however,  caused  a  young  police  trooper 
to  ride  him  provisionally,  and  for  many  a  month  he 
went  about  under  one  or  other  of  the  orderlies.  I 
never  observed  the  portly  person  of  the  Commissioner 
upon  the  bay  colt.  He  eventually  disposed  of  him 
untried  for  that  service. 

Four  colts  in  one  year  went  to  "  that  bourne  from 
which  no  '  Traveller  '  returns  " — (James  Irvine's  joke, 
all  rights  reserved).  One  filly  threw  her  rider  on  the 
run,  galloped  home,  and  broke  her  neck  over  the 
horse  paddock  fence,  which  she  was  too  tete  exaltee  to 
remark.  One  reared  up  and  fell  over  ;  never  rose. 
One  broke  his  back,  after  chasing  every  one  out  of 
the  yard,  in  trying  to  get  under  an  impossible  rail. 
And  one  beautiful  cob  (mine)  fractured  his  spinal 
vertebrae  in  dashing  at  the  gate  like  a  wild  bull. 

The  history  of  this  steed,  and  of  others  which  I 
have  observed  more  recently,  has  most  fully  satisfied 
me  of  the  hereditary  transmission  of  qualities  in 
horse-breeding,  and  nothing,  therefore,  will  convince 
me  to  the  contrary.  I  was  then  in  a  position  to  try 
the  experiment  personally,  as  well  as  to  see  it  tried. 

For,  observe  the  conditions.  The  proprietors  of 
Dunmore  were  young,  highly  intelligent  persons,  with 


a  turn  for  scientific  research ;  good  horsemen,  all 
fond  of  that  branch  of  stock-breeding.  The  run 
being  of  choice  quality  was  comparatively  small  in 
extent.  The  stock  were  kept  in  paddocks  for  part 
of  the  year.  The  grooms  were  good,  and  always 
under  strict  supervision.  The  young  horses  were 
stabled  and  well  fed  during  breaking,  brushed  and 
curry-combed  daily.  They  were  used  after  the  cattle 
when  partly  broken — an  excellent  mode  of  com- 
pleting a  horse's  education.  And  yet  the  result 
was,  as  I  have  described,  unsatisfactory.  The 
majority  of  the  young  horses  turned  out  of  this 
model  establishment  were  with  great  difficulty  broken 
to  saddle,  and  even  then  were  troublesome  and  unsafe. 
How  can  this  condition  of  affairs  be  accounted  for, 
except  upon  the  hypothesis  that  in  animals,  as  in  the 
human  subject,  certain  inherited  tendencies  are  re- 
produced with  such  strange  similarity  to  those  of 
immediate  or  remote  ancestors  as  to  be  incapable 
of  eradication,  and  well-nigh  of  modification,  by 
training  ? 

I  may  state  here  that  I  should  not  have  entered 
so  freely  into  the  subject  had  the  Dunmore  stud,  as 
such,  been  still  in  existence.  Such  is  not  the  case. 
Two  of  the  three  proprietors,  once  high  in  hope  and 
full  of  well-grounded  anticipations  of  success  in  their 
colonial  career,  are  in  their  graves.  Dunmore,  so 
replete  with  pleasant  memories,  has  long  been  sold. 
The  stud  is  dispersed.  My  old  friend  James  Irvine, 
though  still  in  the  flesh  and  prospering,  as  he  deserves, 
has  only  an  indirect  interest  in  the  memory  of 
"  Traveller,"  whose  qualities  during  life  he  would 
never    have    suffered    to    be    thus    aspersed.      The 

xxi  TALES  OF  A  "TRAVELLER"  221 

"  Traveller  temper,"  still  doubtless  existent  in  various 
high-bred  individuals,  is  perchance  wearing  out. 
After  all,  this  equine  exhumation  is  but  the  history  of 
the  formation  of  an  opinion.  It  may  serve  a  purpose, 
however,  if  it  leads  to  the  resolution  in  the  minds  of 
intending  stud-masters,  "  never  to  breed  from  a  sire 
of  bad-tempered  stock." 



ONCE  upon  a  time,  in  a  "  kingdom  by  the  sea," 
known  to  men  as  Port  Fairy,  "  Yambuk  "  was  a  choice 
and  precious  exemplar  of  the  old-fashioned  cattle 
station.  What  a  haven  of  peace — what  a  restful 
elysium,  would  it  be  in  these  degenerate  days  of 
hurry  and  pressure  and  progress,  and  all  that — 
could  one  but  fall  upon  it !  If  one  could  only  gallop 
up  now  to  that  garden  gate,  receive  the  old  cordial 
welcome,  and  turn  his  horse  into  the  paddock,  what 
a  fontaine  de  jouvence  would  bubble  up  !  Should  one 
ride  forth  and  essay  the  deed?  It  could  hardly 
be  managed.  We  should  not  be  able  to  find  our 
way.  There  would  be  roads  and  fences,  with 
obtrusive  shingled  cottages,  and  wheat -fields,  barns, 
and  threshing  machines — in  short,  all  the  hostile 
emblems  of  agricultural  settlement,  as  it  is  called. 

I  like  it  not ;   I  would  the  plain 
Lay  in  its  tall  old  groves  again. 

Fronting    the    farther    side   of   the    Shaw  River, 
down  to  a  bank  of  which  the  garden   sloped,  were 

chap,  xxn  YAMBUK  223 

broad  limestone  flats,  upon  which  rose  clumps  of 
the  beautiful  blackwood  or  hickory  tree,  some  of 
Australia's  noblest  growth,  when  old  and  um- 

The  bungalow,  low-roofed,  verandah-protected,  was 
thatched  at  the  early  period  which  I  recall,  the  rafters 
the  strongest  of  the  slender  ti-tree  saplings  in  the 
brush  which  bordered  the  river-side.  The  mansion 
was  not  imposing,  but  what  of  that  ?  The  rooms 
were  of  fair  size,  the  hospitality  refined,  spontaneous, 
and  pervading  every  look  and  tone  ;  and  we,  who  in 
old  days  were  wont  to  share  it  on  our  journeys  to 
and  from  the  metropolis  of  the  district,  would  not 
have  exchanged  it  for  a  palace. 

People  were  not  so  ambitious  then  as  of  late 
years.  Nor  was  the  transcendent  future  of  stock- 
holding visible  to  the  mental  eye,  when  companies 
and  syndicates  would  compete  for  the  possession  of 
mammoth  holdings,  with  more  sheep  and  cattle  de- 
pasturing thereon  than  we  then  believed  the  whole 
colony  could  carry. 

No  !  a  man  with  a  thousand  head  of  well-bred 
cattle,  on  a  run  capable  of  holding  half  as  many 
more,  so  as  to  leave  a  reserve  in  case  of  bush-fires 
and  bad  seasons,  was  thought  fairly  endowed  with 
this  world's  goods.  If  prudent,  he  was  able  to  afford 
himself  a  trip  to  Melbourne  twice  a  year  or  so,  and 
to  save  money  in  reason.  He  generally  kept  a  few 
brood  mares,  and  so  was  enabled  to  rear  a  superior 
hackney  for  himself  or  friend.  As  it  was  not  the 
custom  to  keep  more  than  a  stock-rider,  and  one  other 
man  for  general  purposes,  he  had  a  reasonable  share 
of  daily  work  cut  out  for  himself. 


"  Yambuk "  was  then  an  extremely  picturesque 
station,  combining  within  its  limits  unusual  variety 
of  soil  and  scenery,  land  and  water.  The  larger  graz- 
ing portion  consisted  of  open  undulating  limestone 
ridges,  which  ran  parallel  with  the  sea-beach.  The 
River  Shaw,  deepening  as  it  debouched  on  the  ocean, 
was  the  south-eastern  boundary  of  the  run.  All  the 
country  for  some  miles  up  its  course,  past  the  village 
of  Orford,  then  only  known  as  The  Crossing  Place, 
and  along  the  coast-line  towards  Portland  Bay,  was 
originally  within  the  bounds  of  the  "  Yambuk  "  run. 

Between  the  limestone  ridges  and  the  sea  were 
sand-hills,  thickly  covered  with  the  forest  oak,  which, 
growing  almost  to  the  beach,  braved  the  stern  sea 
blasts.  Very  sound  and  well  sheltered  were  they, 
affording  advantageous  quarters  to  the  herd  in  the 
long  winters  of  the  West. 

When  our  dreamy  summer-time  was  o'er,  a  truly 
Arcadian  season,  with  "  blue  and  golden  days  "  and 
purple-shadowed  eves,  wild  wrathful  gales  hurtled 
over  the  ocean  waste,  rioting  southward  to  the  Pole. 
Mustering  in  stormy  weather  was  a  special  experience. 
Gathering  amid  the  sea-woods, the  winter's  day  darken- 
ing fast,  a  drove  of  heavy  bullocks,  perhaps,  lumbering 
over  the  sands  before  us,  amid  the  flying  spume,  their 
hoofs  in  the  surf  ever  and  anon, — it  was  a  season 
study,  worth  riding  many  a  mile  to  see.  No  cove 
or  bay  restrained  the  angry  waters.  A  misty  cloud- 
rack  formed  the  horizon,  to  which  stretched  the 
boundless  ocean -plain  of  the  Pacific,  while  giant 
billows,  rank  on  rank,  foamed  fiercely  landward,  to 
meet  in  wrath  and  impotcntly  rage  on  the  lonely 
shore  below  us. 

xxn  YAMBUK  225 

How  often  has  that  picture  been  recalled  to  me 
in  later  years  amid  the  arid  plains  of  Australia 
Deserta  !  The  sad-toned,  far-stretching  shore — the 
angry  storm -voices  of  the  terrible  deep — the  little 
band  of  horsemen — the  lowing,  half-wild  drove — 
the  red-litten  cloud  prison,  wherein  the  sun  lay 
dying  ! 

Pleasant  exceedingly,  in  contrast,  when  the  cattle 
were  yarded  and  rails  securely  pegged,  to  unsaddle 
and  walk  into  the  house,  where  lights  and  glowing 
fires,  with  a  well-appointed  table,  awaited  us,  presided 
over  by  a  Chatelaine  whose  soft  voice  and  ever- 
varied  converse,  mirthful  or  mournful,  serious  or 
satirical,  practical  or  poetic,  never  failed  to  soothe 
and  interest. 

Stock-riding  in  those  days,  half  real  business, 
half  sport,  as  we  youngsters  held  it  to  be,  was 
certainly  not  one  of  those  games  into  which,  as 
Lindsay  Gordon  sings — "  No  harm  could  possibly 
find  its  way." 

Part  of  the  "  Yambuk "  run  was  distinctly 
dangerous  riding.  Where  the  wombats  dug  their 
treacherous  shafts  and  galleries,  how  many  a  good 
steed  and  horseman  have  I  seen  o'erthrown  !  These 
peculiar  night-feeding  animals,  akin  to  the  badger  of 
the  old  country,  burrowed  much  among  the  coast 
hummocks.  Their  open  shafts,  though  not  particularly 
nice  to  ride  among  at  speed,  with  your  horse's  head 
close  behind  the  hard-pressed  steer,  were  trifling  draw- 
backs compared  to  the  horizontal  "  drives "  into 
which,  when  mined  too  near  the  surface,  your  horse's 
feet  often  broke.  The  solid  turf  would  disappear, 
and  letting  your  horse  into  a  concealed  pitfall  up  to 



the  shoulder,  gave  a  shock  that  often  told  tales  in  a 
strained  joint  or  a  broken  collar  -  bone.  We  fell 
lightly  in  those  days,  however,  and,  even  when  our 
nags  rolled  over  us,  scorned  to  complain  of  the  trifling 

The  limestone  country, too,held  cavities  and  sudden 
appearing  fissures  of  alarming  depth,  which  caused 
the  fiery  steed  to  tremble  and  the  ardent  rider  to 
pale  temporarily  when  suddenly  confronted.  At  the 
south-eastern  boundary  of  the  run  the  forests  were 
dense,  the  marshes  deeper,  the  country  generally 
more  difficult,  than  on  the  coast-line.  The  ruder 
portion  of  the  herd  "  made  out "  that  way,  and  many 
a  hard  gallop  they  cost  us  at  muster-time. 

The  run  had  been  "  taken  up  "  for  and  on  account 
of  Captain  Baxter,  formerly  of  Her  Majesty's  50th 
Regiment,  about  a  year  before  my  time,  that  is  in 
1843,  by  Mr.  George  Dumoulin,  acting  as  overseer. 
This  gentleman,  a  son  of  one  of  the  early  Imperial 
officials,  and  presumably  of  Huguenot  descent,  was 
a  most  amusing  and  energetic  person.  Inheriting 
the  legerete  of  his  Gallic  ancestors,  his  disposition  led 
him  to  be  toujours  gat,  even  under  the  most  unpro- 
mising circumstances.  A  capital  manager,  in  the 
restricted  sense  then  most  appreciated,  he  spent  no 
money,  save  on  the  barest  necessaries,  and  did  all  the 
stock-keeping  himself,  with  the  occasional  aid  of  a 
black  boy.  When  I  first  set  eyes  on  Yambuk 
station  there  were  but  two  small  thatched  huts,  no 
garden,  no  horse -paddock,  and  a  very  indifferent 
stock-yard.  The  rations  had  run  out  lately — there 
was  no  salt,  for  one  thing — and  as  the  establishment 
had  then  been  living  upon  fresh  veal  for  a  fortnight, 

xxn  YAM B  UK  227 

it  was  impressed  upon  me,  forcibly,  that  no  one 
here  would  look  at  fillets  or  cutlets  of  that  "  delicate 
meat  that  the  soul  loveth,"  under  ordinary  culinary 
conditions,  for  at  least  a  year  afterwards. 

Mr.  Dumoulin,  though  wonderfully  cheery  as  a 
general  rule,  was  subject  to  occasional  fits  of  de- 
spondency. They  were  dark,  in  proportion  to  his 
generally  high  standard  of  spirits.  When  this 
lowered  tone  set  in,  he  generally  alluded  to  his  want 
of  success  hitherto  in  life,  the  improbability  of  his 
attaining  to  a  station  of  his  own,  the  easiest  thing  in 
those  days  if  you  had  a  very  little  money  or  stock. 
But  capital  being  scarce  and  credit  wanting  for  the 
use  of  enterprising  speculators  who  had  nothing  but 
pluck  and  experience,  it  was  hard,  mostly  impossible, 
to  procure  that  necessary  fulcrum.  Regarding  those 
things,  and  mourning  over  past  disappointments,  he 
generally  wound  up  by  affirming  that  "  all  the  world 
would  come  right,  but  that  poor  Dumoulin  would  be 
left  on  his — beam  ends  —  at  the  last."  And  yet 
what  splendid  opportunities  lay  in  the  womb  of  Time 
for  him,  for  all  of  us  !  So  when  Captain  Baxter  and 
his  wife  came  from  their  New  England  home  to  take 
possession  and  live  at  Yambuk  "  for  good,"  there 
was  no  necessity  for  Mr.  Dumoulin  to  abide  there 
longer,  the  profits  of  a  station  of  that  size  rarely  per- 
mitting the  proprietor  and  overseer  to  jointly  ad- 
minister. When  the  gold  came  we  heard  of  him  in 
a  position  of  responsibility  and  high  pay,  but  whether 
he  rose  to  his  proper  status,  or  malignant  destiny 
refused  promotion,  we  have  no  knowledge.  He  was 
a  good  specimen  of  the  pioneers  to  whom  Australia 
owes  so  much — brave  to  recklessness,  patient  of  toil, 


hardy,  and  full  of  endurance — a  good  bushman  and 
first-class  stock-rider. 

The  captain  and  Mrs.  Baxter  drove  tandem  over- 
land the  whole  distance  from  New  England  to 
Yambuk,  some  hundreds  of  miles,  encamping  regu- 
larly with  a  few  favourite  horses  and  dogs.  Their 
journal,  faithfully  kept,  of  each  day's  progress  and  the 
road  events  was  a  most  interesting  one,  and  would 
show  that  even  before  the  days  of  Miss  Bird  and 
Miss  Gordon-Cumming  there  were  lady  travellers  who 
dared  the  perils  of  the  wilderness  and  its  wilder 
denizens.  A  fine  horsewoman,  passionately  fond 
of  her  dumb  favourites,  Mrs.  Baxter  was  as  happy 
in  the  company  of  her  nice  old  roan  Arab  "  Kaffir," 
the  beautiful  greyhound  "  Ada,"  and  the  collie 
"  Rogue,"  as  more  exigeantes,  though  not  more  gently 
nurtured  dames,  would  have  been  with  all  the 
materials  of  a  society  picnic. 

One  advantage  of  this  sort  of  overland-route 
work  is  that  when  the  goal  is  reached  the  humblest 
surroundings  suffice  for  a  home,  all  luxury  and 
privilege  being  comprehended  in  the  idea  that  you 
have  not  to  move  on  next  day. 

Once  arrived,  the  abode  en  permanence  is  the 
great  matter  for  thankfulness.  The  building  may 
be  unfinished  and  inadequate,  not  boasting  even  of 
a  chimney,  yet  rugs  are  spread  as  by  Moslems  in 
a  caravanserai,  and  all  thank  Allah  fervently  in 
that  we  are  permitted  to  stay  and  abide  there 

With  the  arrival  of  the  master  and  mistress 
speedy  alteration  for  the  better  took  place.  The 
cottage   was    built — an    Indian    bungalow  in    archi- 

xxn  YAMBUK  229 

tecture — with  wooden  walls,  the  roof  and  verandahs 
thatched  with  the  long  tussock  grass.  A  garden 
with  fruit  trees  and  flowers  was  planted,  the  fertile 
chocolate-coloured  loam  responding  eagerly.  Furni- 
ture arrived,  including  a  piano  and  other  lady  adjuncts. 
A  detached  kitchen  was  constructed.  Mr.  Dumoulin's 
"  improvements  "  were  abandoned  to  the  stock-rider, 
and  the  new  era  of  "  Yambuk "  was  inaugurated. 
Far  pleasanter  in  every  way,  to  my  mind,  than  any 
which  have  succeeded  it.  The  locale  certainly  had 
many  advantages.  It  was  only  twelve  miles  from 
that  fascinatingly  pleasant  little  country  town  of 
Port  Fairy  —  we  didn't  call  it  Belfast  then,  and 
didn't  want  to.  The  road  was  good,  and  admitted 
of  riding  in  and  out  the  same  day.  As  it  was  a 
seaport  town,  stores  were  cheap,  and  everything 
needful  could  be  procured  from  Sydney  or  Melbourne. 
There  was  then  not  an  acre  of  land  sold,  west  of  the 
Shaw,  before  you  reached  Portland,  and  very  little  to 
the  east,  except  immediately  around  the  town.  One 
cannot  imagine  a  more  perfect  country  residence, 
having  regard  to  the  period,  and  the  necessities  of 
the  early  squatting  community.  The  climate  was 
delightful.  Modified  Tasmanian  weather  prevailed, 
nearly  as  cold  in  winter,  quite  sufficiently  bracing, 
but  without  frost,  the  proximity  to  the  coast  so 
providing.  English  fruits  grew  and  bore  splendidly. 
Finer  apples  and  pears,  gooseberries  and  cherries,  no 
rejoicing  schoolboy  ever  revelled  in.  The  summers 
were  surpassingly  lovely,  cooled  with  the  breezes 
that  swept  over  the  long  rollers  of  the  Pacific,  and 
lulled  the  sleeper  to  rest  with  the  measured  roll  of 
the  surge  upon  the  broad   beaches  which  stretched 


from  the  Moyne  to  Portland  Bay.  Talking  of 
beaches,  what  a  glorious  sensation  is  that  of  riding 
over  one  at  midnight ! 

Ah  I  well  do  I  remember 
That  loved  and  lonely  hour 

when  a  party  of  us  started  one  moonlight  night  to 
ride  from  Port  Fairy  to  Portland  (fifty  miles)  for  the 
purpose  of  boarding  an  emigrant  vessel,  from  which 
we  hoped  to  be  able  to  hire  men-servants  and  maid- 
servants, then,  as  now,  exceeding  scarce.  My  grand 
little  horse  "  Hope "  had  carried  me  from  home, 
thirty  miles,  that  day,  but,  fed  and  rested,  he  was 
not  particular  about  a  few  miles  farther.  We  dined 
merrily,  and  at  something  before  ten  o'clock  set 
forth.  Lloyd  Rutledge,  who  was  my  companion, 
rode  his  well-known  black  hackney  and  plater, 
"  Molonglo  Jack."  As  we  started  at  a  canter  along 
the  Portland  road — the  low  moon  nearly  full,  and  just 
rising,  the  sky  cloudless — it  was  an  Arabian  Night,one 
for  romance  and  adventure.  The  other  horses  had 
been  in  their  stalls  all  day,  but  as  I  touched  my  lower 
bridle  rein  my  gallant  little  steed — one  of  the  most 
awful  pullers  that  ever  funked  a  Christian — rose  on 
his  hind  legs  and  made  as  though  about  to  jump  on 
to  the  adjoining  houses.  This  was  only  a  trick  I  had 
taught  him  ;  at  a  sign  he  would  rear  and  plunge 
"  like  all  possessed,"  but  it  showed  that  he  was  keen 
for  business,  and  I  did  not  fear  trying  conclusions 
with  the  best  horse  there.  Like  Mr.  Sawyer's  Jack- 
a-dandy,  he  would  have  won  the  Derby  if  it  had 
not  been  more  than  half  a  mile.  He  did  win  the 
Port  Fairy  Steeplechase  next  year,  over  stiff  timber, 

xxn  YAM B  UK  231 

with  Johnny  Gorrie  on  his  back,  and  in  good  com- 
pany too. 

Away  we  went.  The  sands  were  some  miles  past 
Yambuk.  When  we  rode  down  upon  them,  what 
wonders  lay  before  us !  The  tide  was  out.  For 
leagues  upon  leagues  stretched  the  ocean  shore — a 
milk-white  beach,  wide  as  a  parade-ground,  level 
as  a  tennis-court,  and  so  hard  under  foot  that  our 
horses'  hoofs  rang  sharp  and  clear.  Excited  by  the 
night,  the  moon,  the  novelty,  they  tore  at  their  bits 
and  raced  one  another  in  a  succession  of  heats, 
which  it  took  all  our  skill,  aided  by  effective 
double  bridles  of  the  Weymouth  pattern,  to  moderate. 
As  for  our  companions,  they  were  left  miles  behind. 

We  were  at  the  turn,  just  abreast  of  "  Lady  Julia 
Percy  Island,"  which  lay  on  the  slumbering  ocean's 
breast  like  some  cloud  fallen  from  the  sky,  or  an 
enchanted  isle,  where  the  fairy  princess  might  be 
imprisoned  until  the  Viking's  galley  arrived,  or  the 
prince  was  conveniently  cast  away  on  the  adjacent 

Far  as  eye  could  see  shone  the  illimitable  ocean, 
"  still  as  a  slave  before  his  lord,"  star-brightened  here 
and  there.  Southward  a  lengthening  silver  pathway 
rippled  in  the  moon-gleam,  shimmering  and  glowing 
far  away  towards  the  soft  cloudland  of  the  horizon. 
Tiny  capes  ran  in  from  the  forest  border,  and  barred 
the  line  of  vision  from  time  to  time.  Sweeping 
around  these,  our  excited  horses  speeding  as  they 
had  become  winged,  we  entered  upon  a  fresh  bay, 
another  milk-white  beach,  fitted  for  fairy  revels. 
While  over  all  the  broad  and  yellow  moon  shed 
a  flood  of  radiance  in  which  each  twig  and  leaf  of  the 


forest  fringe  was  visible.  So  still  was  the  night 
that  even  "  the  small  ripple  spilt  upon  the  beach"  fell 
distinctly  upon  the  ear. 

As  the  pale  dawn  cloud  rose  in  the  east,  the 
slumbering  ocean  began  to  stir  and  moan.  A  land 
breeze  came  sighing  forth  from  the  dense  forest  like 
a  reproachful  dryad  as  we  charged  the  steep  side  of 
Lookout  Hill,  and  saw  the  roofs  of  Portland  town 
before  us.  It  was  a  longish  stage — fifty  miles — 
but  our  horses  still  pressed  gaily  forward  as  if  the 
distance  had  been  passed  in  a  dream.  We  had  no 
time  to  sentimentalise.  Labour  was  scarce.  We 
stabled  our  good  steeds,  and  transferred  ourselves  to 
a  waterman's  boat.  When  the  employers  of  Portland 
came  on  board  in  leisurely  fashion  some  hours  later, 
the  flower  of  the  farm  labourers  were  under  written 
agreement  to  proceed  to  Port  Fairy.  It  rather 
opened  the  eyes  of  the  Portlanders,  whom,  in  the 
sauciness  of  youth,  we  of  the  rival  township  who 
called  William  Rutledge  our  mercantile  chief  were 
wont  to  hold  cheap.  They  needed  servants  for  farm 
and  station,  as  did  we,  but  there  was  no  help  for  it  ; 
they  had  to  content  themselves  with  what  were  left. 

Personally,  I  had  done  well.  The  brothers 
Michael  and  Patrick  Horan  —  two  fine  upstanding 
Carlow  men  as  one  would  wish  to  see — were  inden- 
tured safely  to  me  for  a  year.  They  served  me  well 
in  the  after-time.  Their  brother-in-law,  with  his  wife, 
as  a  "  married  couple,"  and  a  smart  "  colleen  "  about 
sixteen,  a  younger  sister,  came  with  them.  It  was 
a  "  large  order,"  but  all  our  hands  had  cleared  for 
Ballarat  and  Forest  Creek  ;  we  had  hardly  a  soul 
in    the    place    but  the  overseer  and  myself.      These 

xxn  YAMBUK  233 

immigrants  were  exactly  of  the  class  we  wanted. 
I  know  a  place  where  a  few  such  shiploads  would 
be  of  great  and  signal  utility  now.  They  were 
willing,  well-behaved,  and  teachable.  I  broke  in 
Pat  Horan  to  the  stock-riding  business,  and  within 
a  twelvemonth  he  could  ride  a  buck-jumper,  rope, 
brand,  and  draft  with  any  old  hand  in  the  district. 
He  repeatedly  took  cattle  to  market  in  sole  charge, 
and  was  always  efficient  and  trustworthy.  Mick 
showed  a  gift  for  ploughing  and  bullock-driving,  and 
generally  preferred  farming.  They  both  remained 
with  me  for  years — Pat,  indeed,  till  the  station  was 
sold.  They  are  thriving  farmers,  I  believe,  within  a 
few  miles  of  Squattlesea  Mere,  at  this  present  day. 
I  waited  until  nightfall,  making  arrangements  to 
receive  our  engages  when  they  should  arrive  in  Port 
Fairy,  and  then  mounted  "  Hope,"  in  order  to  ride 
the  thirty  miles  which  lay  between  me  and  home. 
The  old  horse  was  as  fresh  as  paint,  and  landed  me 
there  well  on  the  hither  side  of  midnight.  One  feels 
inclined  to  say  there  are  no  such  horses  nowadays, 
but  there  is  a  trifling  difference  in  the  rider's  "  form," 
I  fancy,  which  accounts  for  much  of  this  apparent 
equine  degeneracy.  Anyhow,  Hope  was  a  "  plum," 
and  so  was  his  mother  before  him.  Didn't  she  give 
me  a  fall  over  a  fence  at  Yambuk  one  day,  laming  me 
for  a  week  and  otherwise  knocking  me  about — the 
only  time  I  ever  knew  her  make  a  mistake  ?  But 
wasn't  a  lady  looking  on,  and  wouldn't  I  have  broken 
my  neck  cheerfully,  or  any  other  important  vertebra, 
for  the  sake  of  being  pitied  and  petted  after  the 
event  ? 

When   the   gold    discovery,  and    the   consequent 

234  OLD  MELBOURNE  MEMO  RLE  S      chap,  xxii 

rise  in  prices,  took  place,  Captain  Baxter  was  tempted 
to  sell  Yambuk  with  a  good  herd  of  cattle,  and  so 
departed  for  the  metropolis.  Our  society  began  to 
break  up — its  foundations  to  loosen.  People  got  so 
rich  that  they  voted  station  life  a  bore,  and  pro- 
moted their  stock-riders  to  be  overseers  in  charge. 
Many  of  these  were  worthy  people.  But  the  charm 
of  bush  life  had  departed  when  the  proprietor  no 
longer  greeted  you  on  dismounting,  when  there  was 
no  question  of  books  or  music  or  cheery  talk  with 
which  to  while  away  the  evening.  And  thinking 
over  those  pleasant  homes  in  the  dear  old  forest 
days,  where  one  was  always  sure  of  sympathy  and 
society,  I  know  one  wayworn  pilgrim  who  will 
ever  in  fancy  recur  to  the  bon  vieux  temps  whereof  a 
goodly  proportion — sometimes  for  one  reason,  some- 
times for  another — was  passed  at  Yambuk. 




I  SEE  a  lone  stream,  rolling  down 
Through  valleys  green,  by  ranges  brown 

Of  hills  that  bear  no  name, 
The  dawn's  full  blush  in  crimson  flakes 
Is  traced  on  palest  blue,  as  breaks 

The  morn  in  Orient  flame. 

I  see — whence  comes  that  eager  gaze  ? 
Why  rein  the  steed,  in  wild  amaze  ? 

The  water's  hue  is  gold  ! 
Golden  its  wavelets  foam  and  glide, 
Through  tenderest  green  to  ocean-tide 

The  fairy  streamlet  rolled. 

"  Forward,  '  Hope  ! '  forward  !  truest  steed, 
Of  tireless  hoof  and  desert  speed, 

Up  the  weird  water  bound, 
Till,  echoing  far  and  sounding  deep, 
I  hear  old  Ocean's  hoarse  voice  sweep 

O'er  this  enchanted  ground  ?  " 


The  sea  ! — wild  fancy  !      Many  a  mile 
Of  changeful  Nature's  frown  and  smile 

Ere  stand  we  on  the  shore. 
And,  yet !   that  murmur,  hoarse  and  deep, 
None  save  the  ocean-surges  keep  ? 

It  is — "  the  cradles'  roar  !  " 

Onward  !  we  pass  the  grassy  hill, 
Around  the  base  the  waters  still 

Shimmer  in  golden  foam  ; 
O  wanderer  of  the  voiceless  wild, 
Of  this  far  southern  land  the  child, 

How  changed  thy  quiet  home  ! 

For,  close  as  bees  in  countless  hive, 
Like  emmet  hosts  that  earnest  strive, 

Swarmed,  toiled,  a  vast,  strange  crowd  : 
Haggard  each  worker's  features  seem, 
Bright,  fever-bright,  each  eye's  wild  gleam, 

Nor  cry,  nor  accent  loud. 

But  each  man  dug,  or  rocked,  or  bore, 
As  if  salvation  with  the  ore 

Of  the  mine-monarch  lay. 
Gold  strung  each  arm  to  giant  might, 
Gold  flashed  before  each  aching  sight, 

Gold  turned  the  night  to  day. 

Where  Eblis  reigns  o'er  boundless  gloom, 
And,  in  his  halls  of  endless  doom 

Lost  souls  for  ever  roam, 
They  wander  (says  the  Eastern  tale), 
Nor  ever  startles  moan  or  wail 

Despair's  eternal  home. 


Less  silent  scarce  than  that  pale  host 
These  toiled,  as  if  each  moment  lost 

Were  the  red  life-drop  spilt ; 
While,  heavy,  rough,  and  darkly  bright, 
In  every  shape,  rolled  to  the  light 

Man's  hope,  and  pride,  and  guilt. 

All  ranks,  all  ages  !      Every  land 
Had  sent  its  conscripts  forth,  to  stand 

In  the  gold-seekers'  rank  : 
The  stalwart  bushman's  sinewy  limb, 
The  pale-faced  son  of  trade — e'en  him 

Who  knew  the  fetters'  clank. 

'Tis  night :  her  jewelled  mantle  fills 
The  busy  valley,  the  dun  hills, 

'Tis  a  battle  host's  repose ! 
A  thousand  watch-fires  redly  gleam, 
While  ceaseless  fusillades  would  seem 

To  warn  approaching  foes. 

The  night  is  older.      On  the  sward 
Stretched,  I  behold  the  heavens  broad, 

When — a  Shape  rises  dim, 
Then,  clearer,  fuller,  I  descry, 
By  the  swart  brow,  the  star-bright  eye, 

The  Gnome-king's  presence  grim  ! 

He  stands  upon  a  time-worn  block  ; 
His  dark  form  shades  the  snowy  rock 

As  cypress  marble  tomb  : 
Nor  fierce  yet  wild  and  sad  his  mien, 
His  cloud-black  tresses  wave  and  stream, 

His  deep  tones  break  the  gloom. 


"  Son  of  a  tribe  accursed,  of  those 
Whose  greed  has  broken  our  repose 

Of  the  long  ages  dead, 
Think  ye,  for  nought  our  ancient  race 
Leaves  olden  haunts,  the  sacred  place 
Of  toils  for  ever  fled  ? 

"  List  while  I  tell  of  days  to  come, 
When  men  shall  wish  the  hammers  dumb 

That  ring  so  ceaseless  now  ; 
That  every  arm  were  palsy-tied, 
Nor  ever  wet  on  grey  hillside 
Was  the  gold-seeker's  brow. 

"  I  see  the  old  world's  human  tide 
Set  southward  on  the  ocean  wide. 

I  see  a  wood  of  masts, 
While  crime  or  want,  disease  or  death, 
With  each  sigh  of  the  north-wind's  breath, 

He  on  this  fair  shore  casts. 

"  I  see  the  murderer's  barrel  gleam, 
I  hear  the  victim's  hopeless  scream 

Ring  through  these  crimeless  wastes  ; 
While  each  base  son  of  elder  lands 
Each  witless  dastard,  in  vast  bands 
To  the  gold-city  hastes. 

"  Disease  shall  claim  her  ready  toll, 
Flushed  vice  and  brutal  crime  the  dole 

Of  life  shall  ne'er  deny  ; 
Danger  and  death  shall  stalk  your  streets, 
While  staggering  idiocy  greets 

The  horror-stricken  eye  ! 


"  All  men  shall  roll  in  the  gold  mire — 
The  height,  the  depth  of  man's  desire — 

Till  come  the  famine  years  ; 
Then  all  the  land  shall  curse  the  day 
When  first  they  rifled  the  dull  clay, 

With  deep  remorseful  tears. 

"  Fell  want  shall  wake  to  fearful  life 
The  fettered  demons.      Civil  strife 

Rears  high  a  gory  hand  ! 
I  see  a  blood-splashed  barricade, 
While  dimly  lights  the  twilight  glade 

The  soldier's  flashing  brand. 

"  But  thou,  son  of  the  forest  free  ! 
Thou  art  not,  wert  not  foe  to  me, 

Frank  tamer  of  the  wild  ! 
Thou  hast  not  sought  the  sunless  home 
Where  darkly  delves  the  toiling  Gnome, 
The  mid-earth's  swarthy  child. 

"  Then,  be  thou  ever,  as  of  yore, 
A  dweller  in  the  woods,  and  o'er 

Fresh  plains  thy  herds  shall  roam. 
Join  not  the  vain  and  reckless  crowd 
Who  swell  the  city's  pageant  proud, 

But  prize  thy  forest  home." 

He  said  :  and,  with  an  eldritch  scream, 
The  Gnome-king  vanished — and  my  dream  : 

Dawn's  waking  hour  returned  ; 
Yet  still  the  wild  tones  echoed  clear, 
For  many  a  day  in  reason's  ear, 

And  my  heart  inly  burned. 


OUT  by  the  far  west-waters, 

On  the  sea-land  of  the  South, 
Untombed  the  bones  of  a  white  man  lay, 
Slowly  crumbling  to  kindred  clay — 

Sad  prayer  from  Death's  mute  mouth  ! 

Alone,  far  from  his  people, 

The  sun  of  his  life  went  down. 
A  cry  for  help  ?      No  time — not  a  prayer  : 
As  red  blood  splashed  thro'  riven  hair, 

His  soul  rose  to  Heaven's  throne. 

Ah  !  well  for  those  felon  hands 

Which  the  strong  man  foully  slew, 
The  cry  from  the  Cross  when  our  Saviour  died 
"  Father,  forgive  " — as  they  pierced  His  side — 
"  For  they  know  not  what  they  do." 

They  have  souls,  say  the  teachers 

Hereafter,  the  same  as  we  : 
If  so,  it  is  hid  from  human  grace 
By  blood-writ  crimes  of  savage  race 

So  deep,  that  we  cannot  sec. 

1  A  young  Englishman,  "killed  by  blacks  on  the  Barcoo." 


Fear  than  love  is  far  stronger : 

The  cruel  have  seldom  to  rue  : 
The  neck  is  bowed  'neath  the  heavy  heel, 
Love's  covenant  with  Death  they  seal ; 

"  For  they  know  not  what  they  do." 

This  Dead,  by  the  far  sun-down, 

This  man  whom  they  idly  slew, 
Was  lover  and  friend  to  those  who  had  slain 
With  him  all  human  love,  like  Cain  ; 

But  "  they  know  not  what  they  do." 

'Twixt  laws  Divine  and  human 

To  judge,  if  we  only  knew, 
When  the  blood  is  hot,  to  part  wrong  from  right, 
When  to  forgive  and  when  to  smite 

Foes  who  "  know  not  what  they  do." 

The  wronger  and  wronged  shall  meet 

For  judgment,  to  die,  or  live  ; 
And  the  heathen  shall  cry,  in  anguish  fell, 
At  sight  of  the  Bottomless  Pit  of  Hell — 

"  We  knew  not,  O  Lord  !      Forgive." 


It  is  Autumn,  it  is  sunset,  magic  shower  of  tint  and  hue; 
All  the  west  is  hung  with  banners,  white  with  golden, 

crimson,  blue  ; 
Drooping  folds  !   far  floating,  mingling,  falling  on  the 

river's  face  ; 
Upturned,  placid,  silver-mirrored,  gazing  into  endless 


Faint    the    breath    of    eve,  low-sighing    for    bright 

summer's  fading  charms  ; 
Woodland  cries  are  echoing,  chiming  with  the  sounds 

from  distant  farms  ; 
And    the    stubble    fires    are    gleaming    red    athwart 

the  wood's  deep  shade, 
While    the    marsh    mist,  slowly   rising,  shrouds    the 

greenery  of  the  glade. 

Redly  still  the  day  is  dying,  as  if  o'er  the  desert  waste, 
And  we  pictured  camels,  Arabs,  and  the  solemn  outline 

Of  a  pillared  lonely  Fane,  clear  against  the  crimson 

Voiceless,  but  of  empire  telling,  and  the  lore  of  ages 



Low  the  deep  voice  of  the  ocean,  whispering  to  the 
silent  strand  ; 

Gleam  the  stars,  in  silver  ripples  ;  stretches  broad  the 
milk-white  sand  ; 

And  a  long,  low  bark  is  lying  underneath  the  island 

Weird  and  dream -like,  darksome,  soundless,  spell- 
struck  now,  and  evermore. 

Deeper,  darker   fall    the  shadows,  and    the  charmed 

colours  wane, 
Fading,  as  the  fay-gold  changes  into  earth  and  dross 

Wildfowl    stream    in  swaying  files  landward  to   the 

marshy  plain  ; 
Louder  sound  the  forest  voices  and  the  deep  tones 

of  the  main. 


The  word  is  "  Charge,"  the  meaning  "  Death," 

Yet,  welcome  falls  the  sound 
On  every  ear  in  the  listening  host, 
Whose  pennons  flutter,  zephyr-tossed, 

That  messenger  around. 

Among  them  Nolan  reins  a  steed 

Frost-white  with  gathered  foam, 
And  pale  and  stern  points  to  the  foe, 
In  heavy  mass,  receding  slow — 

"  Charge,  comrades,  charge  them  home  1  " 

There  rides  one  with  fearless  brow, 

By  time  and  sorrow  scarred. 
For  him  life  knows  no  tale  untold, 
But  empty  names,  love,  hope,  and  gold, -  • 

Cool  player  of  Fate's  last  card  ! 

Beside  him,  he  whose  golden  youth 

Is  in  its  pride  and  bloom. 
His  thoughts  are  with  a  dear  old  home. 
Its  loved  ones,  and  that  other  one, 

And  will  she  mourn  his  doom  ? 


Another  knows  of  a  sweet  fond  face 

That  will  fade  into  ashy  pale 
As  she  hears  the  tale  of  that  day  of  tears  ; 
And  a  prayer  rises  to  Him  who  hears 

The  widow  and  orphan's  wail. 

"  We  die,"  passed  through  each  warrior's  heart, 

"  And  vainly,  but  the  care 
Rests  not  with  us  ;  'tis  ours  to  show 
The  world,  old  England,  and  the  foe, 

What  Englishmen  can  dare." 

Then  bridle-reins  are  gathered  up, 

And  sabres  blaze  on  high, 
And  as  each  charger  bounds  away 
Doubts  flee  like  ghosts  at  opening  day, 

And  each  man  joys  to  die. 

St.  George !  it  is  a  glorious  sight 

A  splendid  page  of  war, 
To  mark  yon  gorgeous,  matchless  troop, 
Like  some  bright  falcon,  wildly  swoop 

On  the  sullen  prey  before. 

Captain  Martinet  {loquitur). 

"  Hurrah  for  the  hearts  of  Englishmen, 
And  the  thoroughbred's  long  stride, 
As  the  vibrating,  turf-tearing  hoof-thunder  rolled, 
'Twas  worth  a  year  of  one's  life,  all  told, 
To  have  seen  our  fellows  ride  ! " 


But  what  avails  the  sabre  sweep  ? 

There  rolls  the  awful  sound, 
Telling  through  heart,  and  limb,  and  brain, 
That  the  cannon  mows  its  ghastly  lane, 

And  corses  strew  the  ground. 

Ha  !   Nolan  flings  his  arms  apart, 

And  a  death-cry  rings  in  air  ; 
And  see,  may  Heaven  its  mercy  yield  ! 
His  charger  from  a  hopeless  field 

Doth  a  dead  rider  bear. 

The  gunners  lie  by  their  linstocks  dead, 

While  deep  on  every  brow, 
In  the  bloody  scroll  of  our  island  swords, 
Is  the  tale  of  each  horseman's  dying  words, 
"  Our  memory  is  deathless  now." 

Staggering  back  goes  a  broken  band, 

With  standards  soiled  and  torn, 
With  gory  saddles  and  reeling  steeds, 
And  ranks  that  are  swaying  like  surging  reeds 
On  a  wild  autumn  morn. 

Despair  has  gazed  on  many  a  field 

Won  by  our  fearless  race  ; 
And  well  the  night  wind,  sighing  low, 
Knows  where,  with  breast  broad  to  the  foe, 

Is  the  dead  Briton's  place. 

But  never  living  horsemen  rode 

So  near  the  eternal  marge, 
As  those  who  ran  the  tilt  that  day 
With  Death,  and  bore  their  lives  away 

From  the  Balaclava  charge. 


Lift  me  down  to  the  creek  bank,  Jack, 

It  must  be  fresher  outside  ; 
The  long  hot  day  is  well-nigh  done  ; 
It's  a  chance  if  I  see  another  one  ; 
I  should  like  to  look  on  the  setting  sun, 

And  the  water,  cool  and  wide. 

We  didn't  think  it  would  be  like  this 

Last  week,  as  we  rode  together  ; 
True  mates  we've  been  in  this  far  land 
For  many  a  year,  since  Devon's  strand 
We  left  for  these  wastes  of  sun-scorched  sand 
In  the  blessed  English  weather. 

We  left  when  the  leafy  lanes  were  green 

And  the  trees  met  overhead, 
The  rippling  brooks  ran  clear  and  gay, 
The  air  was  sweet  with  the  scent  of  hay, 
How  well  I  remember  the  very  day 

And  the  words  my  mother  said  ! 

We  have  toiled  and  striven  and  fought  it  out 
Under  the  hard  blue  sky, 


Where  the  plains  glowed  red  in  tremulous  light, 
Where  the  haunting  mirage  mocked  the  sight 
Of  desperate  men  from  morn  till  night, — 
And  the  streams  had  long  been  dry. 

Where  we  dug  for  gold  on  the  mountain-side, 

Where  the  ice-fed  river  ran  ; 
In  frost  and  blast,  through  fire  and  snow, 
Where  an  Englishman  could  live  and  go, 
We've  followed  our  luck  through  weal  and  woe, 

And  never  asked  help  from  man. 

And  now  it's  over,  it's  hard  to  die 

Ere  the  summer  of  life  is  o'er, 
When  the  pulse  beats  high  and  the  limbs  are  stark, 
Ere  time  has  printed  one  warning  mark, 
To  quit  the  light  for  the  unknown  dark, 

And,  O  God  !  to  see  home  no  more  ! 

No  more  !   no  more  !   I  that  always  vowed 

That,  whether  or  rich  or  poor, 
Whatever  the  years  might  bring  or  change, 
I  would  one  day  stand  by  the  grey  old  grange, 
And  the  children  would  gather,  all  shy  and  strange, 

As  I  entered  the  well-known  door. 

You  will  go  home  to  the  old  place,  Jack  ; 

Then  tell  my  mother  for  me, 
That  I  thought  of  the  words  she  used  to  say, 
Her  looks,  her  tones,  as  I  dying  lay, 
That  I  prayed  to  God,  as  I  used  to  pray 

When  I  knelt  beside  her  knee. 


By  the  lonely  water  they  made  their  couch, 

And  the  southern  night  fast  fled  ; 
They  heard  the  wildfowl  splash  and  cry, 
They  heard  the  mourning  reeds'  low  sigh, 
Such  was  the  Bushman's  lullaby, — 

With  the  dawn  his  soul  was  sped. 


MORN  on  the  waters  !  the  glad  bird  flings 
The  diamond  spray  from  his  glittering  wings. 
Old  ocean  lieth  in  dreamless  sleep, 
As  the  slumber  of  childhood  calmly  deep, 
Light  falls  the  stroke  of  the  fisher's  oar, 
As  he  leaves  his  cot  by  the  shingly  shore ; 
While  the  young  wife's  gaze,  half  sad,  half  bright, 
Follows  the  frail  bark's  flashing  flight. 

Noon  on  the  waters  !   O  rustling  breeze, 

Sweet  stealer  'mid  old  forest  trees, 

Wilt  thou  not  thy  sweet  whisper  keep 

Nigh  him  who  journeys  the  shadeless  deep  ? 

The  wanderer  dreams  of  the  shadowy  dell, 

And  the  green-turfed,  fairy-haunted  well, 

While  the  shafts  of  the  noon-king's  merciless  might 

Mingle  day  with  sorrow,  and  death  with  light. 

Night  on  the  waters  !   murmuring  hoarse, 
The  vexed  deep  threatens  the  bold  bark's  course, 
The  thunder-growl  and  the  tempest  moan 
Sound  like  spirits  that  watch  for  the  dying  groan. 
The  storm-fiend  sweeps  o'er  the  starless  waste, 
And  the  unchained  blasts  to  the  gathering  haste  ; 
Man  alone,  unshaken,  his  course  retains, 
While  the  elements  combat  and  chaos  reigns. 


A  young  Lady  of  twenty-three  years  of  age,  as  a  teacher  in 
a  Ladies'  School.  Satisfactory  references  required.— 
"  Times  "  Advertisement. 

Why  should  I  be  twenty-three  ? 

What  are  the  virtues  they  can  see 

Just  about  to  bloom  in  me 

In  the  magical  year  of  twenty-three  ? 

Does  a  maiden,  fair  and  free, 

Get  prudent  just  at  twenty-three  ? 

Whatever  can  the  reason  be 

That  they  want  a  girl  just  twenty-three  ? 

Dignified  matron,  whoever  you  be, 
Would  not  twenty -two  do  for  thee  ? 
Would  twenty-one  be  shown  to  the  door, 
And  twenty  told  to  come  no  more? 
Nineteen,  perhaps,  would  hardly  be  fit, 
Eighteen  strikes  one  as  rather  a  chit. 
Why  must  you  search  o'er  land  and  sea 
For  the  golden  age  of  twenty -three  ? 

Still  the  years  glide  on — for  you  and  for  me, 
We're  nearer,  or  farther  from,  twenty-three. 


Oft,  as  I  sit  over  my  five  o'clock  tea, 

I  think,  did  she  get  her  ?  age  twenty-three  ! 

When  friends  are  cold  and  unkind  to  me, 

I  think  there's  a  refuge  when  twenty-three. 

On  my  birthday  I'll  write,  unknown  friend,  to  thee, 

Exclaiming,  "  Here,  take  me,  I'm  tiventy-three  I  " 


She  is  beautiful  yet,  with  her  wondrous  hair 
And  eyes  that  are  stormy  with  fitful  light, 

The  delicate  hues  of  brow  and  cheek 

Are  unmarred  all,  rose-clear  and  bright ; 

That  matchless  frame  yet  holds  at  bay 

The  crouching  bloodhounds,  Remorse,  Decay. 

There  is  no  fear  in  her  great  dark  eyes — 

No  hope,  no  love,  no  care, 
Stately  and  proud  she  looks  around 

With  a  fierce,  defiant  stare  ; 
Wild  words  deform  her  reckless  speech, 
Her  laugh  has  a  sadness  tears  never  reach. 

Whom  should  she  fear  on  earth  ?      Can  fate 

One  direr  torment  lend 
To  her  few  little  years  of  glitter  and  gloom 

With  the  sad  old  story  to  end, 
When  the  spectres  of  Loneliness,  Want,  and  Pain 
Shall  arise  one  night  with  Death  in  their  train  ? 


I  see  in  a  vision  a  woman  like  her 

Trip  down  an  orchard  slope, 
With  rosy  prattlers  that  shout  a  name 

In  tones  of  rapture  and  hope  ; 
While  the  yeoman,  gazing  at  children  and  wife, 
Thanks  God  for  the  pride  and  joy  of  his  life. 

Whose  conscience  is  heavy  with  this  dark  guilt  ? 

Who  pays  at  the  final  day 
For  a  wasted  body,  a  murdered  soul, 

And  how  shall  he  answer,  I  say, 
For  her  outlawed  years,  her  early  doom, 
And  despair — despair — beyond  the  tomb  ? 



IN  the  old  tower  they  stand  at  bay, 
Where  the  Moslem  fought  of  old  ; 

True  to  their  race,  in  that  sad  day 
Their  lives  are  dearly  sold. 

They  are  but  three  ;  a  woman  fair, 

A  boy  of  fearless  brow, 
He,  whom  she  vowed  to  love  is  there — 

God  help  her !  then  and  now. 

With  fiercer  leaguer  never  did 
Those  rugged  stones  resound, 

As  the  swarthy  yelling  masses  swayed 
The  time-worn  keep  around. 

Our  death-doomed  brothers  fired  fast, 

Our  sister  loaded  well  ; 
With  each  rifle-crack  a  spirit  passed  ; 

By  scores  the  rebels  fell. 


Though  corses  choke  the  narrow  way, 

Still  swarms  the  demon  hive  ; 
Like  a  tolling  bell  each  heart  will  say 

"  We  ne'er  go  forth  alive  !  " 

Undaunted  still — the  leaden  rain 

Slacks  not  one  moment's  space — 
With  a  crashing  bullet  through  his  brain, 

The  boy  drops  on  his  face ! 

With  outstretched  arms,  with  death-clutched  hands, 

His  mother's  darling  lies, 
No  more,  till  rent  the  grave's  dark  bands, 

To  glad  her  loving  eyes. 

Gone  the  last  hope  !  faint  gleam  of  light — 

Death  stalks  before  their  eyes — 
While  yells  and  screams  of  wild  delight 

From  the  frenzied  crowd  arise. 

O  God  of  mercy  !  can  it  be  ? 

It  is  a  hideous  dream — 
No  ! — nearer  rolls  the  human  sea, 

Arms  flash,  and  eyeballs  gleam. 

He  thinks  of  her,  pale,  tender,  fair — 

To  nameless  tortures  given, 
Gore-stained  and  soiled  the  bright  brown  hair — 

His  very  soul  is  riven. 

He  lifts  the  weapon.      Did  he  think 

Of  a  happy  summer  time — 
Of  the  village  meadow — river  brink, 

Of  the  merry  wedding  chime  ? 


Little  he  dreamed  of  this  dreary  Now, 

Or  that  ever  he  should  stand 
With  the  pistol-muzzle  at  her  brow, 

The  trigger  in  his  hand  ! 

They  kissed — they  clung  in  a  last  embrace, 
They  prayed  a  last  deep  prayer — 

Then  proudly  she  raised  her  tearful  face, 
And a  corse  lay  shuddering  there  ! 

He  stooped,  his  love's  soft  eyes  to  close, 
He  smoothed  the  bright  brown  hair, 

Smiled  on  the  crowd  of  baffled  foes, 
Then,  scattered  his  brains  in  air. 


Printed  by  R.  &  R.  Clark,  Limited,  Edinburgh. 

April,  1S96. 






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WRIGHT(M.  O.).   (See  Natural  History.) 



Abrahams  (I.).  .  .  42 
Abbey  (E.  A.)  .  .  15,47 
Abbot  (F.E.)  ...  42 
Abbott  (E.  A.)  6, 17,  38,  39, 42 
Acton  (Lord)  .  .  .11 
Adams  (Sir  F.  O.)  .  .  36 
Addison    .       .  4,  24,  25 

JEsop.  ...  14,  48 
Agassiz  (L.)  ...  4 
Ainger  (Rev.  A.)  5,  20,  27, 42 
Ainslie(A.  D.).  .  .  18 
Airy  (Sir  G.  B.)  .  3,  34 
Aitken  (Mary  C.)  .  .  25 
Aitken  (Sir  W.)  .  .  30 
Albemarle  (Earl  of)  .  4 
Aldous  (J.  C.  P.)  .  40,  41 
Aldrich  (T.  B.)  .  .  17 
Alexander  (C.  F.)  .  .  25 
Alexander  (T.)  .     10 

Alexander  (Bishop)  .  42 
Allbutt(T.  C.)  .  .  28 
Allen  (G.)  ...  7 
Allingham  (W.)  .  .  25 
Amiel(H.  F.)  ...  4 
Anderson  (A.).  .  .  17 
Anderson  (L.).  .  .  2 
Anderson  (Dr.  McCall)  ,  28 
Andrews  (C.  M.)  .  .  11 
Andrews  (Dr.  Thomas)  .  33 
Appleton  (T.  G.)  .     46 

Archer-Hind  (R.  D.)  46 

Arkold(M.)  9, 17, 24, 25, 38, 39 
Arnold  (Dr.  T.)  .  .  n 
Arnold  (W.  T.)  .  .  n 
Ashley  (W.  J.).  .  4,  35 
Atkinson  (G.  F.)  .  .  7 
Atkinson  (J.  B.)  .  .  2 
Atkinson  (Rev.  J.  C.)  2,  48 
Attwell(H.).  .  .  25 
Austen  (Jane) .  .  .21 
Austin  (Alfred)  io,  17,  24 

Autenrieth  (Georg)  .  Q 
Awdry  (F.)  .        .     48 

B\con  (Francis)  .  4.  24,  25 
Badenoch  (L.  N.)  .  30,  50 
Bailey  (L.  H.)  .  .  10 
Baines  (Rev.  E.)  .  .  42 
Baker  (SirS.  W.)4, 36,37, 47,48 

Balch  (Elizabeth) 
Baldwin  (Prof.  J.  M.) 
Balfour  (F.  M.)      . 
Balfour  (J.  B.) 
Ball  (J.)  . 
Ball  fW.  Piatt) 
Ball(W.W.  R.)      . 
Ballance  (C.  A.)     . 
Barker  (G.  F.) 
Barker  (Lady)  .     2,  g 
Barlow  (J.) 
Barnard  (C.)  . 
Barnes  (R.  H.) 
Barnes  (W.)     . 
Barnett  (E.  A.) 
Barry  (A.) 
Bartholomew  (J.  G.) 
Bartlett  < J.) . 
Barwell  (R.)  . 

•  14 
>  33 

•  7 

•  7 

■  47 


IS,  28 

.  28 

•  33 
47,  48 
14,  48 

•  34 

•  5 

•  4 
9,  37 

•  42 

•  3 
9.  17 
.  28 

Bastable  (Prof.  C.  F.) 
Bateman  (J.)  . 
Bates  (K.  L.)  . 
Bateson  (W.) 
Bath  (Marquis  of)  . 
Bather  (Archdeacon) 
Baxter  (L.)  . 
Beesly  (Mrs.)  . 
Behrens  (H.)  . 
Benedikt  (R.) 
Benham  (Rev.  W.)  . 
Benson  (Archbishop) 
Benson  (W.  A.  S.) 
Bentley  . 
Berlioz  (H.)  . 
Bernard  (C.  E.) 
Bernard  (J.  H.) 
Bernard  (H.  M.) 
Bernard  (M.)  . 
Bernaud  (T.  D.) 
Berners  (J.)  . 
Besant  (Sir  W.) 
Bettany  (G.  T.) 
Bickerton  (T.  H.) 
Bigelow(M.  M.) 
Bikblas  (D.)  . 
Binnie  (Rev.  W.) 
Birks  (T.  R.)  7, 
Bjornson  (B  ) . 
Black  (W.)  . 
Blackburne  (E.) 
Blackib  (J.  S.) 
Blake  (J.  F.)  . 
Blake  (W.)  . 
Blakiston  (J.  R.) 
Blanford(H.  F.) 
Blanford  (W.  T.)  . 
Blennerhassett  (R.) 
Blomfield  (R.) 
Blyth  (A.  W.) . 
Bohm-Bawerk  (Prof,) 
Boldrewood  (Rolf), 

BONAR  (J.) 

Bond  (Rev.  J.). 
Boole  (G.) 
Booth  (C.) 


Borrow  (G.)  . 
Bosanquet  (B.) 
Bose  (W.  P.  du) 


Boutmy  (E.)     . 
Bowen  (H.  C.) . 
Bower  (F.  O.)  . 
Bradford  (A.  H.) 
Bradford  (G.). 
Bradley  (A.  G.) 
Brbtt  (R.  B  )  . 
Bridges  (J.  A.). 
Bright  (U.  A.). 
Bright  (John)  . 
Brimley(G.)    . 
Brodie  (Sir  B.). 
Brodribb  (W.  J.) 
Brooke  (Sir  J.) 
Brooke  (S.  A.). 








,  11 



,  41 










,  42 





II,  17,  24 





11,  30 












16,  46 


Brooks  (Bishop) 
Brown  (Prof.  C.) 
Brown  (J.  A.)  . 
Brown  (Dr.  James) 
Brown  (T.  E. )  . 
Browne  (J.  H    B.) 
Browne  (Sir  T.) 
Bruce  (P.  A.)  . 
Brycb  (James)  . 
Buchheim  (C.  A.) 

BUCKLDY  (A.  B.) 
Bucknill  (Dr.  J.  C 
Buckton  (G.  B.) 

Burdett  (C.  W.  B.). 


Burkb  (E.) 

Burn  (R.). 

Burnett  (F.  Hodgson) 


Bury  (J.  B.)      . 

Butcher  (Prof.  S.  H.) 


7,  9,  32 

Butler  (A.  J.) . 
Butler  (Rev.  G.) 
Butler  (Samuel) 
Butler  (Archer) 
Butler  (Sir  W.  F.) 
Buxton  (Mrs.  S.) 

Cairnes  (J.  E.) 
Cajori  (F.) 
Caldecott  (R.) 
Calderwood  (H.) 
Calderwood  (W.  L 
Calvert  (Rev.  A.) 
Cameron  (V.  L.) 
Campbell  (D.  H  ) 
Campbell  (Sir  G.) 
Campbell  (J.  D.) 
Campbell  (J.  F.) 
Campbell  (Dr.  J.  M 
Campbell  (Prof.  Lewis) 
Capes  (W.W.). 
Carles  (W.  R.) 
Carlyle  (T.)    . 
Carmarthen  (Lady) 
Carnarvon  (Earl  of) 
Carnot  (N.  L.  G.)   . 
Carpenter  (Bishop) 
Carr(J.C)      . 
Carroll  (Lewis) 
Carter  (R.  Brudenell) 
CASSKL(Dr.  D.) 
Cattel(J.  McK.)  . 
Cautley(G.  S.) 
Cazenove  (J.  G.)     . 
Chalmers  (J.  A.)     . 
Chalmers  (J.  B.) 
Chalmers  (M.  D.)  . 
Chapman  (Elizabeth  R.) 
Chappell  (\V  ). 
Chase  ^ev.  F.  H.). 







12,  35 


11,  36 

•  25 
.     12 

•  29 

•  5° 


4,  24 

.     12 

16,  24,  46 
17,  46 




























1  17 





Chasseresse  (Diana)  .  37 
Chaucer  ...  16,  17 
Cheetham  (Archdeacon).  40 
Cherry  (R.  R.)  .  .15 
Cheyne  (C.  H.  H.)  .  .3 
Cheyne  (T.  K.)  .  .  39 
Chirol(V.)  ...  36 
Christie  {\V.  D.)  .  .  zs 
Church  (Rev.  A.  J.).4,i6,38,46 
Church  (F.  J.).  .  20,  46 
Church  (R.  W.). 

4,  s,  6,  12,  17,  24,  41,  42 
Clare  (G.)  ...  35 
Clark  (J.  W.)  ...  25 
Clark  (L.)  .  .  .  3 
Clark  (R)  .  .  .  37 
Clark  (S.)  ...  4 
Clark  (T.  M.).  .  .  10 
Clarke  (C  B.).  .  10,35 
Cleveland  (Duchess)  .  5 
Clifford  (Ed.)  .  .  4 
Clifford  (W.  K.)  .  24,  33 
Clifford  (Mrs.  W.  K.)  .  48 
Clough  (A.  H.)  .18,24,25 
Cobden  (R.)  .  .  .  36 
Cohen  (J.  B.)  .  .  .8 
Cole  (G.  A.  G.)        .        .    47 

COLENSO  (J.  W.)  .  .       41 

Coleridge  (C.  R.)  .  .     24 

Coleridge  (S.  T.)    .  4,  18 

Collier  (Hon.  John)  .       2 

Collins  (C  )     .  .10 

Collins  (J.  Churton)  .    24 

Colquhoun  (F.  S.)   .  .     18 

Colvin  (Sidney)         .  5,  26 

Combe  (G.)       .        .  4,  10 

Commons  (J.  R.)      .  .     35 

Congreve  (Rev.  J.) .  .     42 

Conway  (Hugh)  .  .  21 
Cook(E.T.)     ...      2 

Cooke  (A.  H.)  .        .  .30 

Cooke  (C.  Kir.loch)  .  .     30 

Cooke  (J.  P.)    .        .  8,  43 

Cooper  (E.  H.)  .  .21 
Corbett(J.)             .  4,  21,  48 

corfield  (w.  h.)    .  .    14 

Cornish  (F.)    .         .  .     43 

Corson  (H  )      .        .  .24 

Cossa  (L.)         .        .  .     35 

Cotes  (E.).        .  .    21 

COTTERILL  (J.  H.)     .  .      IO 

Cotton  (Bishop)  .  .  43 
Cotton  (C.)  .  .  .  15 
Cotton  (J.  S.)  .  .     36 

Coues  (E.)  .  .  .50 
courthoi'e  (w.  j.)  .  4,1*5 
cowell  (g.)  .  .  .  2q 
Cowper  .  .  .18,  24,  25 
Cox(G.  V.)  ...  12 
CRAlK(Mrs.)  18,21,24,25,47,48 
Craik  (H.)  .  6,  10,  24,  36 
Crane (Lucv)  .  .  .47 
Crane  (Walter)  .  .  47 
Craven  (Mrs.  D.)  .  .  9 
Crawford  (F.  M.)  .14,21,24 
Creighton  (BUhop  M.)    5,  12 


Cross  (J.  A.)  ...  38 
Crosskey  (R.) .  .  .  14 
Crossi  1  v  (K.)  ...  3 
Crossley  (H.)  .        .        .46 

CUMMING  (L.)    .  .  .33 

CUNLIFFE  (J.  W.)      .  .       24 

Cunningham  (C.)    .        .    36 


Cunningham  (Sir  H.S.).  21 
Cunningham  (Rev.  J.)    .     40 


Cunynghame  (Sir  A.  X.)  .  30 
Curteis  (Rev.  G.  H.)  40,  43 
Curtin  (J.)  .  .  .21 
D'Arcy  (C  F.).  .  .32 
Dabbs  (G.  H.  R.)  .  .  18 
Dahlstrom  (K.  P.).  .  10 
Dahn  (F.)  .         .        .     21 

Dakyns(H.G.)  .  .  46 
Dale  (A.  W.  W.)  .  .  40 
Dalton  (Rev.  J.  N.)  .  46 
Daniell  (Alfred).  .  .  33 
Dante  .  .  .4,  17,  46 
Dasent  (A.  I.).  .  .  12 
Davidson  (Bishop)  .  41,  43 
Davies  (Rev.  J.  LIA  40,43 
Davies  (W/  .  .  6,  43 
Davis  (R.  H.)  .  .  .  21 
Dawkins  (W.  B.)  .  .  1 
Dawson  (G.  M.)  .  .  11 
Dawson  (Sir  J.  W.)  .  .  11 
Dawson  (W.  J.)  .  .  18 
Day(L.  B.)  ...  21 
Day(R.  E.)  ...  33 
Dean  (A.).  .  .  .10 
Dean(B.).  .  .  -49 
Defoe  (D.)  .  .  5,  25 
Degerdon  (W.  E.)  .  .  38 
Di  ighton  (K.).  5,  ig,  24,  27 
Dei.amotte  (P.  H.).  .  3 
Delbos  (L.)  .  .  .31 
Dell(E.C)  .        .     14 

De  Morgan  (M.)  .  .  48 
Deussen(P.)  .  .  .  32 
De  Quatrefages  (A.)  .  1 
De  Varigny  (H.)  7 

De  Vere(A.)  .  .  iS,  24 
Disraeli  (B.) .  .  .  22 
Dicey  (A.  V.)  .  .  15,  36 
Dickens  (C.)  .  .  21,24 
Dickens  (M.  A.)  .  22,24 
Diggle  (Rev.  J.  W.).  .  43 
Dilke  (Ashton  W.)  .  .  24 
Dilke  (Sir  Charles  W.)  30,  36 
Dillwyn  (E.  A.)  .  .  22 
Dobbin  (L.)  ...  8 
Dobson  (A.)  .  .  5,  14 
Donaldson  (J.)  .  .  41 
Donisthorpe  (\V.)  .  .  36 
Dorr  (J.  C.  R.)  .  .  47 
Dowden  (E.)  5,  17,  19,  26 

Doyle  (Sir  F.  H.)  .  .  18 
Doyle  (J.  A.)  .  .  .12 
Drage(G.)        .  -37 

Drake  (B.)  .  .  .46 
Drum  mond  (Prof.  J.)  .  43 
Dryden  ...  24,  25 
Du  Cane  (E.  F.)  .  .  36 
Dupp(Sir  M.  E.  G.)  6,  24,  36,  47 
Dunsmuir  (A.).  .  .  22 
DOntzer  (H.)  .  .  .  5,  6 
Durand  (Sir  M.)  .  .  22 
Dyer  (I,.).  .  .  2,  35 
Dyer  (H.).  .  .  -37 
Eadie(J.).  .  .  4,  38,  40 
Earl  (A.).  .  .  .33 
Eastlake  (Lady)  .  .  41 
Ebers(G)  ...  22 
Eccles  (A.  S.) .  .  .  29 
1  i"  i.worth  (Prof.  F.  Y.).  35 
I        .1-.  worth  (M.)      .  .      22 

1  Edmunds  (Dr.  W.)   .        .     28 


Edwards-Moss  (Sir  J.  E.)    38 
Ehlers  (E.  S.). 
Eimer(G.  H.T.)      . 
Elderton  (W.  A.)  . 
Ellerton  (Rev.  J.) . 
Elliott  (Hon.  A.)  . 
Ellis  (A.). 
Ellis  (T.). 
Emerson  (R.  W.)     . 
Emerson  (O.  F.) 
Hkman  (A.) 
Evans (Lady)  .        . 
Evans  (S.) 
Everett  (J.  D.) 
Falconer  (Lanoe)    . 
Farrar  (Archd.) 
Farrer  (Sir  'I.  H.)   . 
Fasnacht  (G.  E.)    . 
Faulkner  (F.). 
Fawcett  (Prof.  H.). 
Fawcett  (Mrs.  H.) . 
Fay  (Amy)        .        . 
Fayrek  (Sir  J.). 

6,  39 


Fearnley  (W.^ 












•  3<5 
.     14 

•  34 

•  34 

•  33 

.       13 

•  M 

•  33 
37.  43 


Fearon (D.  R 
Ferrel  (W.)  . 
Fessenden  (C.)  . 
Field  (Rev.  T.) 
Fielde(A.  M.). 
Finck  (H.  T.)  . 
Fisher  (Rev.  O.) 
Fiske(J.).  7,  12,  32, 
Fitch  (J-  G.)  .  .  .10 
Fitz  Gerald  (Caroline)  .  18 
Fitzgerald  (Edward)  18,  25 
Fitzmaurice  (Lord  E.)  6 

Flagg(A.  T.)  .  .  .  31 
Fleischer  (E ).  .  .8 
Fleming  (G.)  .  .  .22 
Flory  (M.  A.) ...  3 
Flower  (Sir  W.  H.).  .  49 
FlOckiger  (F.  A.)  .  .  2g 
Fonda  (A.  J.)  ...  35 
Forbes  (A.)  .  .  4,  47 
Forbes  (Prof.  G.)  .  .  3 
Forbes  (Rev.  G.)  .  .  43 
Forbes-Mitchell  (W.)  5,  47 
Fortescue  (Hon.  J.  W.).4,3o 
Foster  (Prof.  M.)  .  7,  34,  35 
Fostek-Melliar  (A.)  .  10 
o,  29 

Fothergill  (Dr.  J.  M.) 

36,  43 

5>  3» 

25,  3° 


Fowler  (Rev.T.) 
Fowler  (W.W.)       .2, 
Fox(T.  W.)      . 
Fox  (Dr.  Wilson) 
Foxwell  (Prof.  H.  S) 
Framji  (D.)      . 
Francis  (F.)     . 
Frankland(P.  F.)  . 
Fuasi  r  (Mrs.)  . 
Fraser  (Bishop) 
Fraser-Tytler  (C.  C.) 
Frazer  (J.  G.)  . 
Freeman  (Prof.  E.  A.) 

2,  5.  ".  37,  40 
French  (G.  R.) 
Friedmann  (P.) 
Frost  (A.  B.)    . 
Froudk  (J.  A.). 
Fullerton  (W.  M.) 

FURNIVALL  (F.  J.)      . 















FYFFE  (C.  A.)     .  .  .      12 

Fyfe(H.  H.)  ...  ii 
Gairdner  (J.)  ...  5 
Gaisford  (H.) .        .        .     io 

GALT  (J.)  ....       22 

Galton  (F.)  ...  i 
Gamgee  (Arthur)  .  .  35 
Gardner  (E.)  ...  2 
Gardner  (Percy) 
Garnett  (R.)  . 
Garnett  (W.) . 
Gaskell  (Mrs.) 
Gaskoin  (Mrs.  H.) 
Geddes  (W.  D.) 
Gee(H.)  . 
Gee  (W.  W.  H.) 
GEiKia(Sir  A.).  4,5,6, 
Gennadius  (I.) 
Genung(I.  F.) 
George (H.  B.) 
Gibbins  (H.  de  B.)  . 
Gibbon  (Charles) 
Gillies  (H  C.) 
Gilchrist  (A.). 
Giles  (P.). 
Gilman  (N.  P.) 
Gilmore  (Rev.  J  . )  . 
Gladstone  (Dr.  J.  H.) 
Gladstone  (W.  E.). 
Glaister  (E.)  . 
Glover  (E.) 

GODFRAV  (H.)    . 

Godkin(G.  S.). 

Goethe    .        .     5,  14, 

Goldie  (J.) 

Goldsmith       5,  14,  18, 

Gonner(E.  C.  K.)  . 

Goodfellow  (J.) 

Goodnow  (F.  J.) 

Gordon  (General  C.  G.) 

Gordon (Lady  Duff) 

Gordon  (H.)     . 

Goschen  (Rt.  Hon.  G.  J. 

Gosse  (Edmund) 

Gow(J.)   . 

Gow  (W.) 

Gracian  (Balthasar) 

Graham  (D.)    . 

Graham  (J.  W.) 

Grand'homme  (E.)  . 

Grane(W.  L.). 


Gray  (Prof.  Andrew) 

Gray  (Asa) 

Gray        .       .       .5 

Gray  (J.  L.)     . 

Gregory  (R.  A.) 

Green  (J.  R.)  11, 12, 14,  25,  26 

Green  (Mrs.  J.  R.)  .  5,  11,  12 

Green  (W.  S.)  . 

Grkenhill  (W.  A.) 

Greenwood  (F.) 

Greenwood  (J.  E.) 

Grenfell  (Mrs.) 

Griffiths  (W.  H.) 


Grove  (Sir  G.). 

Guest  (E.) 

Guest  (M.J.)  . 

Guillemin  (A.) 

Guizot  (F.  P.  G.) 

GUNTON  (G.)      .  .  .35 

GwATKIN  (H.  M.)      .  .      40 

Halle  (E.  von)        .        .     35 

17,  «6 
.  4° 




;■  37 

,  10 

2,  9 



Si  26 





5,  16 







Hales  (J.  W.)  .  18,  21,  25,  26 
Hallward  (R.  F.)  .  .  15 
Hamerton  (P.  G.)  .  3,  15,  26 
Hamilton  (Prof.  D.  J.)  .  29 
Hamilton  (J.).  .  .  43 
Hanbury  (D.)  .  .  7,  29 
Hannay  (David)  .  .  4 
Harden  (A.)  ...  8 
Hardwick  (Archd.  C.)  40,  43 
Hardy  (A.  S.)  .  .  .  22 
Hardy  (W.  J.).  .  .  4° 
Hare  (A.  W.)  ...  26 
Hare  (J.  C.)  ...  43 
Harker(A.)  .  .  .34 
Harris  (Rev.  G.  C).  .  43 
Harrison  (F.).  5,  6, 12,  15,  26 
Harrison  (Miss  J.).  .  2 
Harte  (Bret)  .  .  .  22 
Hartig  (Dr.  R.)  .  .7 
Hartley  (Prof.  W.  N.)  .  8 
Hassall  (A.)  ...  12 
Hatch  (F.  J.)  .  .  .  " 
Hauser(K.)  ...  5 
Hawkins  (H.  P.)  .  .  29 
Hayes  (A.)        .        .  18 

Headlam  (A.  C.)  .  .  2 
Headley  (F.  W.)  .  30,  50 
Heaviside  (O.)  .  .  34 
Helm(E.).  .  .  .35 
Helps  (Sir  A.)  .  .  .26 
Hempel  (Dr.  W.)  .  .  8 
Henley  (W.  E.)  .  .  15 
Herman  (H.)  .  .  .23 
Herodotus  .  .  .46 
Herrick  .  .  .  .25 
Herrmann  (G.)       .        .     10 

HERTEL(Dr-)    .  .  .10 

Hertz  (H.)  ...  34 
Hickie  (W.  J.).  .  .  39 
Higinbotham  (C.  J.)  .  5 
Hill  (D.J.)  ...  32 
Hill  (F.  Davenport)  .  37 
Hill(0.).  ...  37 
Hill(G.  B.)  ...  12 
Hiorns  (A.  H.)  .  29,  30 
Hobart  (Lord)  .         .     26 

Hobday  (E.)  .  .  .10 
Hodgson  (Rev.  J.  T.)  .  5 
Hoffding  (Prof.  H.)  .  33 
Hoffman  (W.  J.)  .  .1 
Hofmann(A.W.)  .  .  8 
Hole  (Rev.  C).  .  9,  I2 
Holiday  (Henry)  .  .  48 
Holland  (T.  E.)  .  15,  37 
Hollway-Calthrop(H.)  48 
Holm  (A.).  .  .  .13 
Holmes  (O.  W.,junr.)  .  15 
Homer  ...  17,  46 
Hood(T.).  .  .  .15 
Hooker  (Sir  J.  D.)  .  7,47 
Hoole  (C.  H.)  .  .  .  39 
Hooper  (G.)  ...  4 
Hooper  (W.  H.)  .  .3 
Hopkins  (E.)  ...  18 
Hoppus(M.  A.  M.)  .  .  22 
Horace     .        .  17,  25,  46 

Hort  (F.  J.  A.).  39,  40,  41,  43 
Horton  (Hon.  S.  D.)  .  35 
Hosken  (J- D)  •  •  l8 
Hovenden  (R.  M.)  .  .  46 
Howell  (George)  .  15,  35 
Howes  (G.  B.)  .  .  35,49 
Howitt  (A.  W.)  .  .  1 
Howson  (Very  Rev.  J.  S.)     41 

Hozier  (Col.  H.  M.).  .  30 
Hubner  (Baron)  .  .  47 
Hughes  (T.) 

4,  5,  18,  22,  25,  41,  43,  47 
Huddilston  (J.  H.)  .  39 
Hull(E.)         .        .         2,  11 

HULLAH  (J.)        .  .    2,  25,  30 

HuMPHRY(Prof.SirG.M.)  35,49 
Hunt  (Rev.  W.)  .  .  12 
Hunt  (W.)  ...  3 
Hutchinson  (G.  W.  C.)  .  3 
Hutton  (R.  H.)  .  5,  26 
Hutton  (Rev.  W.  H.)  .  5 
Huxley  (T) 

5,  26,  32,  33,  34,  35,  37,  49 
Hyde  (W.  de  W.)  .  .  43 
Illingworth  (Rev.  J.  R.)  43 
Impey(S.  P.)  .  .  •  29 
Ingram  (T.  D.)  .  .  13 
Ireland  (A.)  .  .  .26 
Irving  (H.)  .  .  .20 
Irmng  (J.)  ...  11 
Irving  (Washington)  .  15 
Jack  (A.  A.)     .  .     17 

Jackson  (D.  C.)  .  .  34 
Jackson  (F.  G.)  .  .  47 
Jackson  (Helen)  .  .  22 
Jacob  (Rev.  J.  A.)  .     43 

Jacobs  (J.)  .  .14,25,47 
James  (Henry).  .  5,22,26 
James  (Rev.  H.)  .  .  43 
James  (Prof.  W.)  .  .  33 
jARDINE(Rev.  R.)    .  .      33 

Jeans  (Rev.  G  E.)  .  43,  46 
J  ebb  (Prof.  R.  C.)  4,13,16,26 
Jellett  (Rev.  J.  H.)  .  43 
Jenks  (Prof.  Ed.)  .  .  37 
Jennings  (A.  C.)  .  13,38 
Jersey  (Countess  of)  .  48 
Jephson(H.)    .  -37 

Jevons  (W.  S.)  5,  3?>  35,  36,  37 
Jex-Blake  (Sophia).  .  9 
Joceline  (E.)  .  .  .26 
Johnson  (Amy)  .  .  34 
Johnson  (Samuel)  .  5,  16,  25 
Jolley(A.  J.)  ...  39 
Jones  (Prof.  D.  E.)  .  .  34 
Jones  (F.).  ...  8 
Jones  (H.  Arthur)  .16,  18,  26 
Jones  (H.  S.)  .  .  .2 
Julius  (Dr.  P.).  .  .  9 
Kahlden  (C.)  .  .  .29 
Kalm  (P.)  .  .  .  47 
Kant  .  .  .  -32 
Kanthack  (A.  A.)  .  .  29 
Kari  ....     48 

K.AVANAGH(Rt.Hn.A.M.)  5 
Kav(R«v.W.).  .  .  39 
Keary  (Annie).  13,22,38,48 
Keary  (Eliza)  .  .  .48 
Keats  .  .  .5,  25,  26 
Keble(J.).  .  .  .  25 
Kellner  (Dr.  L.)  .  .  31 
Kellogg  (Rev.  S.  H.)  .  43 
Kelly  (E.)  .  .  -43 
Keltie  (J.  S.)  .  .  .  38 
Kelvin  (Lord).  11,  31,  33,  34 
Kempe  (A.  B.)  .  .  -33 
KENNEDV(Prof.A.  B.  W.)     io 

Kennedy  (B.  H.)  .  .  46 
Kennedy  (P.)  .  .  .22 
Keynes  (J.  N.).  .  32,36 
Kidd(B.)  ...     37 

KlEPERT  (H.)     .  .  .II 



KlMBER  (D.  C.)  .  .      as 

KlNG(F.  H.)  ...  I 
KlNG(G.).  ...       13 

Kingsley(G.)  .  .  .38 
Kingsley  (Henry)  .  25,  47 
Kipling  (J.  L.).  .  .  47 
Kipling  (Rudyard)  .  23,  48 
Kirkpatrick  (Prof.)  38,  43 
Klein  (Dr.  E.).  .  7,  29,  30 
Klein  (F.)  ...  28 
Knight  (W.)  .  17,  28,  32 
Kuenen  (Prof.  A.)  .  .  38 
Kynaston  (Rev.  H.)  43,  46 
Labberton  (R.  H.).  .  3 
La  Farge  (J.)  ...  3 
Lafargub  (P.).  .  .  23 
Lamb.  .  .  .5,  25, 27 
Lanciani  (Prof.  R.).  .  3 
Landauer  (J.).  .  .  8 
Landor  .  .  .  5,  25 
Lane-Poole  (S.)  .  6,  25 
Lanfrey  (P.)  ...  5 
Lang  (Andrew)  15,  26,  46 

Lang  (Prof.  Arnold).  .  4y 
Langley  (J.  N.)  .  .  34 
Langmaid  (T.).         .  10 

Lankestek  (Prof.  Ray)  7,  27 
Lassar-Cohn  (Dr.).  .  8 
Laslett  (T.)  ...  7 
Laughton  (J.  K.)  .  .  4 
Laurie  (A.  P.).  .  .1,3 
Lawrence  (T.  J.)  .  .  15 
Lea  (A.  S.)  .  .  .  35 
Leaf  (W.)  .  .  i7,  46 
Leahy  (Sergeant)  .  .  38 
Lee  CM.)  .  .  .  .23 
Lee  (S.)  ...  25,  46 
Lee-Warner  (W.)  .  .  13 
Leeper  (A.)  .  .  .46 
Legge(A.  O.)  .  .  13,-3 
Leibnitz  .  .  .  .  .6 
Leslie  (G.  D.)  .  .  .  27 
Lethabv(W.  R.)  .  2,38 
Lethbridge  (Sir  Roper)  5,  13 
Levy  (Amy)  .  .  .23 
Lewis  (Mrs.  A.  S.)  .  .  39 
Lewis  (R.)  .  .  .  16 
Lewkowitscii  (J.)  .  .  38 
Lightfoot  (bishop) 

5:  13.  39.  4°,  4*.  43.44 
LlGHTWOOD  (J.  M.)  .  .       15 

Lindsay  (Dr.  J.  A.)  .  .  29 
Littledale(H.)  .  .  17 
Lockyer(J.  N.)       .     3,8,34 

LODEMAN  (E.  G.)       .  .       10 

Lodge  (Prof.  O.  J.)  3,  27,  34 
Lodge  (R.)  ...  5 
Lowenso.j-Lessing  (F.)  .  11 
Loewy(IS.)  .         .33 

Loftie  (Mrs.  W.  ].).  .  2 
Longfellow  (H.  W.)  25,26 
Lonsdale  (J.)  .  .  25,  46 
Lowe(W.  H.)  .  .  38,39 
Lowell  (f.  R.l  i5,  ,8,  27 

Loudoun  (W.  J.)  .  .  33 
Louis  (H.)  .  .  .38 
Lu3BOCK(SirJ.)  7,  10,27,  ro 
Lucas  (F.)  ...  18 
Lucas  (Joseph).  .  .  47 
Lunt(J).  ...  8 
Lupion  (S.)  ...  8 
Lyall  (Sir  Alfred)     .  4 


•  23 

•  13 

•  44 

•  27 

•  23 

•  29 
.  12 

20,  25,  46 

•  27 

•  17 

•  44 





I  44: 


Lysaght  (S.  R.) 
Lyte(H.C.  M.) 
Lyttelton  (A.  T.) 
Lyttelton  (E.) 
Lytton  (Earl  of) 
MacAlister  (D.) 
Macarthur  (M.) 
Macaulay  (G.  C.) 
Macau  lay  (Lord)  . 
Maccoll  (Norman). 
McCurdy  (J.  F.)  . 
M'Cosh  (Dr.  J.) 
Macdonald  (George) 
Macdonald  (G.) 
v!ackail(J.  W.)  . 
Maclagan  (Dr.  T.). 
Maclarkn  (Rev.  Alex.) 
Maclaren  (Archibald) 
Maclean  (G.  E.)  . 
Maclean  (W.  C.)  . 
Maclear  (Rev.  Dr.)s8,  4^  41 
McLennan  (J.  C.)  . '  .  33 
M'Lennan  (J.  F.)  .  .  1 
M'Lennan  (Malcolm)  .  23 
Macmillan  (Rev.  H.)  27,44 
Macmillan  (Michael)  6,  19 
Macmillan  (M.  K.)  .  23 
Macquoid  (K.  S.)  .  .  23 
Madoc  (F.)  .  .  .23 
Maguire(J.  F.)        .        .     48 

MAHAFFV(Prof.  J.  P.) 
2,  13,  16,  27,  32 

Maitland(F.W.)  . 
Malet  (L.) 
Malory  (Sir  T.) 
Malthus(T.  R.)     . 
Mansfield  (C.  li.)  . 
Marcou  (J.)     . 
Markham  (C.  R.)    . 
Marr  (J.  E.)    . 
Marriott  (J.  A.  R.). 
Marryat  (Capt.)     . 
Marshall  (Prof.  A.) 
Marshall  (H.  R.)  . 
Martel(C.)     . 
Martin  (Frances)    . 
Martin  (Frederick). 
Martin  (H.  N.) 
Martineau  (C.  A.). 
Martineau  (H.) 
Martineau  (Dr.  J.) 
Mason  (A.  E.  W.)   . 
Mason  (O.T.). 
Masson(D.)       5,  18,  2] 
Masson  (G.)     . 
Masson  (R.  O.) 
Mathew  (E.  J.) 
Maturin  (Rev.  W.). 
Maudslky  (Dr.  H.) . 
Maurice  (F.  D.) 

jo,  27,  32,  38-40,  41,  44 
Maurice  (Gen. F.)  5,  30,  36 
Max  MOllf.r  (K.)  . 
Mayer  (A.  M.). 
Mayo-Smith  (R.)  . 
Mayor  (J.  B.)  . 
Mayor  (Prof.  J.  E.  B.) 
Mazini  (L.) 

Meldola  (Prof.  R.l.   8,  33 
Mendenhali.  (T.  C.) 
Menger(C)     . 

MlNsCHUTKIN  (A.)  . 

Mkrcier  (Dr.  C.)      .         .     89 

1  1 



Mercue  (Prof.  J.)    .  .     30 

Meredith  (G.).        .  .     18 

Meredith  (L.  A.)    .  .     15 

Meyer  (E.  von)        .  .       8- 

Meyrick  (E.)  .        .  .     30. 

Miall(L.  C.)  .  30,  50 

Michelet(M.)         .  .     13. 

Miers  (H.  A.)  .  .  .14 
Mill(H.R.)    ...     11 

Miller  (R.  K.).        .  .       3 

Milligan  (Rev.  W.).  40,  44 

Milton     .       5,  16,  18,  2 -„  27 

Minto  (Prof.  W.)     .  5,  23 

Mitford  (A.  B.)       .  .     23 

Mitford(M.  R.)     .  .     15 

Mivart  (St.  George).  .     35 

Mixter(W.  G.)        .  .      8 

Molssworth  (Mrs.)  .    49 

Molloy  (G.)     .        .  .33 

MOLYNKUX  (W.  C.  F.)  .  30 
MONAHAN  (J.  H.)       .  .       15 

Montefiore  (C.  G.)       .    43 

MONTELIUS  (O.)  .  .         I 

Moore  (C.  H.).  .  .  3 
Moorhoose  (Bishop)       .    44 

MORIER  (J.)         .  .  .      33 

Morison  (J.  C.)  .  .  5 
Morley  (John).  4,  5,  20,  27 
Morris  (E.  E  ).  .  .5 
Morris  (Mowbray)  .  4,  35 
Morris  (R.)  .  .  35,  31 
MORSHEAX)  (E.  D.  A.)  .  46 
Moulton  (L.  C.)  .  .  18 
Moulton  (R.  G.)  .  .  38 
Mudie(C.  E.)  ...  18 
Muir(I.).  ...  1 
Muir(M.  M.P.)  .  .  8 
MOller(H.)  ...  8 
Mullinger  (J.  B.)  .  .  13 
Mun(T.).  ...  35 
Munro  (J.  E.  C.)  .  .  15 
Murphy  (J.  J.).  .  7,33,44 
Murray  (D.Christie)  .  33 
Murray  (G.)  ...  8 
Myers  (E.)  .  .  18, 46 
Myers  (F.  W.  H.)  .  5,  19,  27 
Mylne  (Bishop)  .  .  44 
Nadal(E.  S.)  .  .  .  27 
NHKNST(Dr.)  ...  8" 
Netti.eship  (H.).  .  .  16 
Nkwcomb  (S.)  .        .  3 

Newcastle    (Duke    and 

Nl  WMAN  (G.)    . 
Newton  (Sir  C.  T.). 
Nichols(E.  L.) 
Nicholls(H.  A.  A.) 
Noel  (Lady  A.) 
Nordenskiold  (A.  E.) 
Norgatk  (Kate) 
Norris  (W.  E.) 
Norton  (Charles  Eliot) 
Norton  (Hon.  Mrs.) 
Nokway(A.  H.) 
Omphant  (T.  L.  K.) 
OnPHANT(Mrs.  M.  O.  W.) 

5.  «3.  «6,  23,  35,  49 
Oliver  (Prof.  D.)  .  .  8 
Oliver  (Capt.  S.  P.).  .  47 
Oman  (C.  W.)  ...  4 
Orr(H.  B.)  ...  1 
Osborn  (H.  F.)        .       .      y 














»7.  31 



OsTWALD  (Prof.) 

Otte  (E.  C.)     . 
Page(T.E.)     . 
Palgrave  (Sir  F.) 
Paterson  (J.)  . 
Patmore  (Coventry) 
Patteson  (J.  C.) 
Pattison  (Mark) 
Paulsen  (F.)   . 
Payne  (E.J.)    . 
Peabody  (C.  H.) 
Peacock  (T.  L.) 
Pearson  (C.  H.) 
Pease  (A.  E.)  . 
Peel  (E.) . 
Pellissier  (E.) 
Pen nell  (J.)    . 
Pennington  (R.) 
Penrose  (F.C.) 
Percival(H.  M.) 
Perkins  (J.  B.) 
Peterson  (W.) 
Pettigrew  (J.  B.) 
Phillimore  (J.  G.) 
Phillips  (F.  E.) 
Phillips  (J.  A.) 
Phillips  (W.  C.) 

PlCTON  (J.  A.)    . 
PlFFARD  (H.  G.) 

Pike  (L.  O.)     . 
Pike  (W.). 

Plumptre  (Dean) 
Pollard  (A.W.) 
Pollock  (Sir  F.,  Bart.) 

6,  16,  27,  36,  37 


.  8 
.  13 

•  39 
.  13 
.  16 

25,  49 

.   6 

5.  6,  44 
.  10 

12,  36 

io,  34 

.  23 

•  37 

•  14 

•  19 

•  3i 

•  32 

•  3 
.  11 

18,  19 

•  13 

•  23 

■  ?° 

•  3 

•  27 

.  29 

■  13 

•  47 

26,  46 

•  44 
16,  17,  46 


Pollock  (Lady) 
Poole  (M.E.)  , 
Poole  (R.  L.) 
Pope  . 
Poste  (E.) 
Potter  (L.) 
Potter  (R.) 
Potts  (W.) 
Preston  (T.) 
Price  (E.  C.)    . 
Price  (L.  L.  F.  R.) 
Prickard  (A.  O.) 
Prince  Albert  Vic 
Prince  George 
Procter  (F.)    . 
Propert  (J.  L.) 
Prowse  (D.  W.) 
Purcell(E.  S.) 
Quesnay(F.)   . 
Rabbeno  (U.)  . 
Rae(J.)    .        . 
Ramsay  (Sir  A.  C.) 
Ramsay  (W.)    . 
Ransome  (C.)  . 
Rathbone  rw.) 
Ratzel  (F.)      . 
Rawlinson  (W.G.) 
Rawnsley  (H.  D.) 
Ray  (P.  K.)       . 
Rayleigh  (Lord) 
Reichel  (Bishop) 
ReidQ.S.)       . 
Remsen  (I.) 
Renan  (E.)       . 
Rendall  (Rev.  F.) 
Rendu  (M.leC.) 







1 1 















Reynolds  (E.  S.)  .  .  14 
Reynolds  (H.  R.)  .  .  44 
Palgrave  (F.  T.) 

3.  19,  21,  25,  26,  42,49 
Palgrave  (R.  H.  Inglis)  .  3s 
Palgrave  (W.  G.)  19,  37,  47 
Palmer  (Lady  S.)  .  .  23 
Parker  (T.  J.).  .  7,49 
Parker  (W.  K.)  .  .6 
Parker  (W.  N.) 
Parkes  (Sir  H.) 
Parkin  (G.  R.  ) 
Parkinson  (S.) 
Parkman  (F.)  .  . 
Parry  (G.) 
Parsons  (Alfred) 
Pasteur  (L.)  . 
Pater  (W.)  .  3,  16, 
Paterson  (A.). 
Reynolds  (Sir  J.  R.) 
Reynolds  (O.) 
Rhoades(J.)  . 
Rhodes  (J.  F.). 
Ricardo  . 
Richardson  (B.  W.) 
Richey(A.  G.). 
Righton  (E.)  . 
Ritchie  (A.)  . 

Robinson  (Preb.  H.  G.) 
Robinson  (J.  L.) 
Robinson  (Matthew) 
Rockstro  (W.  S.)    . 
Rogers  (J.  E.T.)      . 
Romanes  (G.  J.) 
Roscoe  (Sir  H.  E.)  . 
Roscoe  (W.  C.) 
Rosebery  (Earl  of). 
Rosenbusch  (H.)     . 
Rosevear  (E.)- 
Ross  (P.)  . 
Rossetti  (C.  G.) 
routledge  (j.) 
Rowe(F.J.)     . 
Roy  (Neil) 

Rucker  (Prof.  A.  W.) 
Rumford  (Count)  . 
Rushbrooke  (W.  G.) 
Russell  (Dean) 
Russell  (Sir  Charles) 
Russell  (W.  Clark) . 
Russell  (T.)  . 
Rutherford  (W.  G.) 
Ryland  (F.)  . 
RYLE(Prof.  H.E.)  . 
Sadler  (H.) 
Saintsbury  (G.) 
Salmon  (Rev.  G.)  .  .  .4 
Salt(H.  S.)  .  .  .28 
Sandford  (Bishop)  .  .  4+ 
Sandford  (M.  E.)  .  .  6 
Sandys  (J.  E.) .  .  .  47 
Sayce  (A.  H.)  .  .  .13 
Scaife  (W.  B.).  .  .  27 
Scartazzini  (G.  A.)  .  17 
Schi  iemann  (Dr.) 
Schmoller  (G.)  .  .35 
Schorlemmer  (C.)  .  .  8,  9 
Schreiber  (T.).  .  .  2 
Schuchhardt  (C.)  .  .  2  (Dr.  G.)  .  .  9 
Scott  (M.)        .  .     23 

Scott  (Sir  W.) .  .  19,25 
Scratchley  (Sir  Peter)  .     30 


•  49 

.       6 

13.  37 

•  34 

•  23 
.  15 
.       8 

231  27 
.  23 
.     29 

•  14 
.     23 

•  13 
35,  36 

14,  29 




,  37 














4,  ^3 


■  4 


Scudder  (S.  H.) 
Seaton  (Dr.  E.  C.)  . 
Seebohm  (H.  E.) 
Seeley  (Sir  J.  R.)    .13, 
Shiler  (Dr.  Carl) 
SELBORNE(Earlof)      25, 
Seligman  (E.) . 
Sellers  (E.)    . 
Service  ( J. ) 
Sewell  (E.  M.) 
Shadwell  (C.  L.)    . 
Shairp  (J.  C.)  . 
Shakespeare  .    17,  19, 
Shann  (G.) 
Sharp  (W.)       .        . 
Shaw  (Miss)     .        . 
Shelley  . 
Shipton  (Helen)       . 
Shirley  (W.  N.)       . 
Shore  (L.  E.)  . 
Shorthouse  (J.  H.) 
Shortland  (Admiral) 
Shuckburgk  (E.  S.) 
Shufeldt (R.  W.)   . 
Sibson  (Dr.F.) 
Sidgwick  (A.)  . 
Sidgwick  (Prof.  H.)   32, 

SlME  (J.)    . 

Simpson  (Rev.  W.)  . 
Skeat  (W.  W.) 
Skrine  (J.  H.). 
Slade  (J.  H.)  .        . 
Sleeman  (L.)    .        . 
Slomah  (Rev.  A.)    . 
Smart  (W. ) 
Smalley  (G.  W.)     . 
Smetham  (J.  and  S.) 
Smith  (Adam)  .       3,  6, 
Smith  (Alexander)  . 
Smith  (C.  B.)  . 
Smith  (Garnet). 
Smith  (Goldwin) 

4,  6,  14,  21,  27,  37, 
Smith  (H.) 
Smith  (J.) 
Smith  (Rev.  T.) 
Smith  (W.  G.)  . 
Smith  (L.  Pearsall)  . 
Sohm  (R.). 

Somerville  (Prof.  W.) 
Southey  . 
Spanton  (J.)    . 
Spender  (J.  K.) 
Spenser    . 
Spottiswoodf  (W.). 
St.  Asaph  (Bishop  of) 
St.  Johnston  (A.)  .23, 
Stanley  (Dean) 
Stanley  (Hon.  Maude) 
Statham  (R.)  . 
Stebmng  (W.). 
Steei  (F.  A.)    . 
Stephen  (C.  E.) 
Stephen  (H.)  . 
Stephen  (Sir  J.  F.)   14, 
Stephen  (j.  K.) 
Stephen  (L.)    . 
Stephens  (T.  B.) 
Stephens  (\V.  R.  W.) 
Stevens  (C.  E.) 
Stevenson  (F.  S.)    . 
Stevenson  (J.  J.)     . 
Stewart  (A.)  . 
Stewart  (Baltour)    33, 


•  5° 

•  29 

37.  44 
29,  35 

40,  42 

•  36 

41,  44 

•  13 
.  46 
4,  19 

25,  26 

10,  34 
.   6 

•  13 
19,  26 

.  23 

•  44 

•  34 

•  23 

•  31 
14,  46 

•  49 

•  29 
.  20 

,  36,  37 

11,  13 

•  40 

•  17 

6,  19 

.  10 

•  47 
.  39 

•  3° 
6,  27 
.  6 

35,  36 
17,  25 

•  19 

•  »4 

45,  47 






6,  26 



47,  <9 




16,  27 







34,  45 





Stokes  (Sir  G.  G.)  .  ,  34 
Story  (R.  H.)  .  .  .4 
Stone  (W.H.).  .  .  34 
Strachey  (Sir  E.)  .  .  25 
Strachey  (J.  St.  L.)  .  37 
Strachey  (Gen.  K.).  .  n 
STRANGFORE>(Viscountess)  47 
Strettell  (A.)  .  .  19 
Stubbs  (Dean) .  .  .45 
Stubbs  (Bishop)  .  .40 
Sutherland  (A.)  .  .  11 
Swainson  (H.). 
S\VETE(Prof.  H.  B.). 
Swift  (Dean)  . 
Symonds  (J.  A.) 
Symonds  (Mrs.  J.  A) 
Symons  (A.) 
Taggart  (W.  S.)  . 
Tainsh  (E.  C). 
Tait  (Archbishop)  . 
Tait(C.  W.  A.) 
Tait  (Prof  P.  G.) 
Tanner  (H.)  . 
Tarr(R.  S.)  . 
Tavernier  (J.  B.)  . 
Taylor  (E.  R.). 
Taylor  (Franklin)  . 
Taylor  (Isaac). 
Taylor  (Sedley) 
Tegetmeiek  (W.  B.) 
Temple  (bishop) 
Temple  (Sir  R.) 
Tennant  (Dorothy). 
Tenniel  (Sir  John)  . 
Tennyson  (Lord)  17,  19 
Tennyson  (Frederick) 
Tennyson  (Lord  H.)  15,49 
Theodoli  (Marchesa)  .  24 
Thompson  (D 'A.  V.)  8 

Thompson  (E.).  .  .  i? 
Thompson  (II.  M.)  .  .  36 
Thompson  (S.  P.)  .  .  34 
Thomson  (A.  W.)  .  .  10 
Thomson  (Sir  C.  W.)  .  50 
Thomson  (Hugh)  .  .  14 
Thoreau  .  .  .  .28 
Thorne  (Dr.  Thome)  29 

Thornton  (J.).  .  .  7 
Thornton  (W.  T.)  32,  37,  46 
Thorpe  (T.  E.).  .  .  6,  q 
Thring  (E.)  .  .  10,  28 
Thrupp(J.  F.).  .  .  38 
Thikskield  (J.  R.)  .  .  5 
Todhunter  (I.)  .  .  6 
Torrens(W.M.)  .  .  5 
Tourgbnief  (I.  S.)  .  .  24 
Tout(T.F.)  .  .  5,14 
Tozer(H.  F.)  .  .  .  11 
Traill  (H.D.).  .  4,  5,  36 
Trench  (Capt.  F.)  .  .  37 
Trench  (Archbishop)  .  45 
Trevelyan  (Sir  G.  O.)  14,  28 
Trevor  (G.  H.)  .  .  20 
Tribe  (A.). 




1  j 



6,  45 


33i  34,  45 







30,  26 



Tristram  (W.  O.)  .  .  15 
Trollope  (A.)  ...  5 
Truman  (J.)  •        .20 

Tucker  (T.  G.)  .  .  46 
Tuckwell  (W.)  .  .14 
Tufts  (J.  H.)  .  .  .32 
Tulloch  (Principal).  .  45 
Turner  (C.  Tennyson)  .  20 
Turner  (G.)  .  .  .  1 
Turner  (H.  H.)  .  .  34 
Turner  (J.  M.  W.)  .  .  15 
Turpin  (G  S.)  .  .  .9 
Tvlor(E.  B.)    .  .       1 

I'yrwhitt  (R.  St.  J.)  3,  20 
Tyrrell  (R.  Y.)  .  16,28 
Vaughan(C.  J.)  35,  43,  41,  45 
Vaughan  (Rev.  D.  j.)25,28  45 
Vaughan  (Rev.  E.T.)  .  45 
Vaughan  (Rev.  R.).  .  45 
Veley  (M.)  .  .  .24 
Venn  (Rev.  J.).  .  33,  45 
Vernon  (Hon.  W.  W.)  .  17 
Verrall  (A.  W.)  .  17,46 
Verrall  (Mrs.)  .  .  2 
Vickerman  (C.)  .  .  38 
Victor  (H.)  .  .  .24 
Vines  (S.H.)  ...  8 
Viollet-Le-Duc  (E.  E.).  10 
Wain  (Louis)  .  .  .48 
Waldstein  (C.)  .  .  2 
Wat  ker  (Prof.  F.  A.)  .  36 
Walker  (Jas.)  .         .       8 

Walker  (Louisa)  .  .  38 
Wallace  (A.  R.)  .  7,  30,  36 
Wallace  (Sir  D.  M.)  .  37 
Walpole(S.)  ...  36 
Walton  (I.)  .  .  .15 
Ward  (A.  W.)  .  4,  «,  16,  25 
Ward  (H.  M.)  .  .  "  .  7,  8 
Ward(S.).  .  .  .20 
Ward(T.  H.)  ...  21 
Ward  (Mrs.  T.  H.)  .  24,49 
Ward(W.)  .  .  6,  2  ,  4x 
Ware(W.  R.)  .  .  .  3 
Waters  (C.  A.)  .  .  35 
Waterton  (Charles)  30,  47 
Watson  (E.)  ...  6 
Watson  (R.  S.)  .  .  47 
Watson  (W.)  .  .  20,  25 
Way  (A.  S.)  .  .  .  46 
Webb(W.T.)  .  .  18,  20 
Webster  (Mrs.  A.)  .  20,  49 
Weisbach  (J.)  .        .  10 

Welby-Gregory  (Lady)  .  41 
Wei.ldon  (Rev.  J.  E.  C.)  45,46 
West(M.)  .  .  .24 
Westcott(Bp.)^8,39, 40,41, 45 
Westermarck  (E.).  .  1 
Wetherell  (J.)  .  .  32 
Wheeler  (J.  T.)  .  .  14 
Wiiewei.l(W.).  .  .  6 
Wiutcomi)  (L.  S.)  .  3,16 
White  (A.)  ...  28 
White  (Gilbert)        .       15,31 


•  29 

•  34 

•  9 

20,  26,  28 

•  45 

•  45 
36,  3^ 
35,  49 

•  36 

•  41 

•  3° 


)  2, 


White  (Dr.  W.  Hale) 
White  (W.)      . 
Whitney  (W.  D.) 
Whittier  (J.  G.) 
Whittuck  (C.  A.) 
Wickham  (Rev.  E. 
Wicksteed  (P.  H.) 
Wiedersheim  (R.) 
Wieser  (F.  von) 
Wilbraham  (F.  M.) 
Wilkins  (Prof.  A.  S 
Wilkinson  (S.) 
Willey  (A.) 
Williams  (C.  M.) 
Williams  (C.  T.J 
Williams  (G.  H.) 
Williams  (H.). 
Williams  (Montagu) 
Williams  (S.  K.) 
Williamson  (M.  B.) 
Willink(A.)   . 
Willoughuy(E.  F.) 
Willoughby  (F.) 
Wills  (W.  G.)  . 
Wilson  (A.  J.)  . 
Wilson  (Sir  C.) 
Wilson  (Sir  D.) 
Wilson  (E.  B.). 
Wilson  (Dr.  O.) 
Wilson  (Archdeacon) 
Wilson  (Mary). 
Winchester  (Bishop  of;. 
Windelband  (W.)   . 
Wingate  (Major  F.  R.)  . 
Winkworth  (C.)      .        . 
Winkworth  (S.)      . 
Winter  (W.)    . 
Wolsei.ey  (Gen.  Viscount) 
Wood  (A.  G.)    . 
Wood  (C.J.)    . 
Wood  (Rev.  E.  G.)   . 
Woods  (Rev.  F.  H.). 
Woods  (Miss  M.  A.). 
Woodward  (C.  M.) . 
Woolner  (T.)  . 
Wordsworth  4,  6, 17,20,26,28 

1,  4 







■      SO 

•  45 

.      16 





.    20 

•  45 

14,  45 

ax,  42 
.  10- 
.     20 

Worthey  (Mrs.) 
Wright  (Rev.  A.) 
Wright  (MissG.) 
Wright  (J.) 
Wright  iL)     . 
Wright  (M.  O.) 
Wright  (W.A.) 

WuLKER(Dr.)  . 

Wurtz  (Ad.)     . 
Wyatt  (SirM.  D.) 
Yeo(J.)     . 
Yoe (Shway) 

Yonge(C.M.)6,8,9,  13,  t 3, 14, 
24,  '6,  28,  32,  38,  49. 
Young  (E.W.)  10 

Younghusband(G.  J.  and 

F.  E.)     .        .        .        .     30. 
Ziegler  (Dr.  E.)       .         .a) 

.     24 

•  39 

•  9 

70,  26 

•  34 

•  2?,  3i 







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